An Abundance of Riches
by Butane Baby
Summary: As the Briefs prepare for a special day together, Trunks, who now has his own family, is thinking more about his parents' longtime relationship. Vegeta and Bulma are aging, and the family must work through their changes without driving each other crazy - and that's a tall order. Some adult language and situations. Has hurt/comfort/angst elements.
1. Reversing Roles

Trunks and his wife Sonali lay in their bed - breathless - and stared at the ceiling. Clothes were strewn throughout their dimly lit room, along with suitcases and other accessories. A crisp, black satin-edged tuxedo hung on the wall next to a slate-blue, pleated ballroom gown. The couple agreed that his mother Bulma had done a splendid job choosing their attire. She always did.

"Are you ready to get up, tiger mom?"

Sonali playfully tapped her husband's shoulder before sliding her arm under his back. "Let's get it straight, buddy. That is your mother, not me."

"I guess, but you've been around my crazy family since we were in college," Trunks said as he surveyed the untidiness around them. "Mom's personality has rubbed off on you. The kids would agree… a lot."

Sonali tapped his skull and leaned in. "Some things are better left unsaid, my love." Then she flung him from their bed. They laughed hysterically as Trunks hung upside down with his legs tangled in the sheets. His long lavender hair dusted the floor.

"Shhh!" Trunks could barely stifle his laughter. "We should probably lower our voices. I know my parents were up with the roosters today, and we know who'll be the grouchiest."

"Bulma."

Husband and wife clutched hands to strengthen their resolve. There would be a lot of that before the day's conclusion. Always the tease, Sonali squeezed Trunks' right bicep like an overripe apple. "Dude, you really should train more with dad. Your reaction time was pitiful."

Trunks pulled the raven-haired woman in for a kiss. He looked forward to celebrating with family and friends, and eating everything in sight. He also planned to honor the spirits those who weren't with them anymore. He felt humbled by these riches.

He just wasn't ready to wake up his rowdy children yet.

"Now that you have insulted me, I am going to shower alone," he said. "For the record, my reflexes are fine. _It's sexy when you abuse me like that_. We'll discuss your adopted dad later. I'm still pissed that he lets you say that while I can't. I did for a while as a kid."

"Get over it," Sonali replied. "You know Vegeta does it to tease you and means no harm, so I'm happy to join in the fun. Here you are, a grown man, acting like a special snowflake because you can't call your meat-eating, cigar-chomping, rib-cage beating warrior of a father 'daddy.' What's stopping you?"

Trunks laughed out loud. "Oooh, you've spent far too much time around my old man. You're practically his philosophical twin."

"And I'm surprised dad hasn't forced you to train with him daily to get your priorities straight," Sonali said.

Trunks frowned. "And this is the second time you've commented about that. I am not my father. Are you finished, or shall I find my armor?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry." Sonali said, caressing his chest. "My teasing went too far. Now hurry so we can gather the kids before brunch. I'll join you in the shower shortly."

When they arrived the week before, the couple hoped Bulma's planned entertainment for their fraternal twins, Tery and Tasmin, would keep them busy. This time she wisely handed the duty to Vegeta, who was given free rein. On past visits the family rarely knew beforehand what "team-building exercises" the Saiyan prince had planned for the kids. That was his new word for what everyone else simply called training.

He also refused being called "grandpa," preferring "elder" instead.

The twins found their grandfather mysterious and fascinating - cool, even. His quiet observation of their activities kept them on guard, which Vegeta enjoyed immensely. He also didn't tolerate much sassiness, sternly instructing the little boy and girl to save their backtalk for others, and to be clever with their insults. "Family tradition," he called it. Once she found out, Bulma angrily told him to stop inventing false rituals. Vegeta ignored her, knowing that his wife was just as terrible when they were younger. He once said the creativity behind her vulgarities rivaled the worst he heard from mortals across three galaxies. He had no use for rewriting history, especially when the facts caused no one harm. Keeping one's mouth shut was more effective. He was good at it.

Despite his father's controversial and often hilarious life lessons, his son valued the effort. For two weeks Trunks didn't have to be chief disciplinarian or entertainer while on holiday. Vegeta did not want his son and daughter-in-law to thank him. Their appreciation was understood. It always would be.

Trunks dried his wife's back in silence. Sonali wondered at first if he remained annoyed about her earlier comments. She decided to open a broader chat to help clear his mind. They had to stick together today.

 _He's just thinking too hard._ "Trunks, remind me to never go out with your sister or her friends or your mother like that again. That bachelorette party Thursday night almost killed me, and I certainly didn't expect to see two strippers."

"Wait." Trunks eyes snapped wide open. "Did you just say _two strippers_? No one said anything about adult entertainment!"

Trunks' response surprised and amused Sonali. This was Bulma and Bulla, after all. Those two were _completely_ out of their minds. They were also headstrong, tough, brilliant, loyal, and loving. And they were completely out of their minds.

"Yeah." Sonali looked into the mirror and began to brush her hair. "The guys were cute, but I got bored and left the room. How did things go with your party?"

Trunks blinked. His mother's role in this worried him more than his wife's. Vegeta probably would have busted an artery had he known - then again, maybe not. As a teen, when he was discovering his own sexuality, Trunks suspected his parents watched porn together. He had blocked the thought from his memory until that moment.

He shuddered at the horror of it all. It was time to move on.

"We had a great time," he said. "But by the end of the night I alone had to ensure that six shit-faced drunk guys left the gentlemen's club safely, including Bulla's soon-to-be spouse. Father said early on that he wouldn't assist with slave labor."

"Oh my god, Trunks!" Sonali slapped him on the back. "Vegeta went with you?! So he was in a jolly mood. Why did you wait so long to tell me? Bulma must have been delighted."

Trunks examined their dress clothes more closely. He hadn't seen Vegeta's wedding attire yet, and he wasn't excited about helping him dress. His father would likely bitch all the way through it. Then, when he looked fantastic, which Vegeta always did, Trunks never got any credit.

During these moments Bulma secretly joked about how much her "stinky Saiyan" had changed from when they first met. She and Vegeta were each other's pillar of strength and best friend, and they were growing older together with grace. Perhaps the only person at first who thought their relationship would last was Son Goku, the everlasting, good-natured optimist. He had been like that since Bulma knew him as a child.

"Well, honey, calling Vegeta 'jolly' would be bizarre anyway, but I know when he's enjoying himself," Trunks said. "After playing pool with me, father sat alone in the back room smoking one of the cigars my sister gave him as a gift. Before leaving, he put his hand on my shoulder, handed me his suit jacket and car keys, and flew off."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"He was troubled, Sonali. I always know early, sometimes before mom now. You know what he said at the hotel yesterday before I could ask? 'If I have not told Bulma yet, do not expect me to tell you.' I mean, how does one respond to that?"

Sonali looked up at him. "Trunks, why are you acting like this behavior is brand new? You lived in that man's home for 18 years. You're much closer now than you have ever been, so I think he will likely share this so-called problem. Give him time. Now, let's play a game. Can you guess why he likes me so much?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Trunks wrapped a towel around his waist and crossed his arms. "You're both introverted."

"Correct, and the majority of your family and friends aren't, including you. Think about it. People have roamed the main house and wedding site all week. Our wedding was small, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Trunks said. "It drove mom crazy."

"It also caused the worst argument between your parents that I had ever seen," Sonali said. "I knew they wouldn't break up or anything, but I also didn't realize how strongly Vegeta felt about giving us a private ceremony. According to your sister, he vowed to leave Earth for a year if Bulma didn't back down."

"Oh, please." Trunks said, scratching his chin. "You've got to be kidding me. That would have been a disaster."

"It wasn't the wisest plan, Trunks. The point is Vegeta knew I would have been overwhelmed and understood how I felt. These last few days before the Bulla's wedding have probably strained him. I feel it too. Being alone with his grandkids has been good for him overall, I believe."

Trunks kissed Sonali's neck and whispered in her ear. "I agree, and it has been great for our sex life. Thank heavens I married such wise woman, who also happened to be gorgeous."

Seeing the wicked look in his eyes, Sonali promptly spread her fingers across his face like a spider. "Oh, don't you dare! We had our fun this morning, and your mother is tense enough as it is. We won't add to her anxiety by being late."

Grumbling loudly, Bulma stampeded on her arm-crutch through her estate's main hall. She looked angelic in her crème-colored pantsuit, an outfit as flawless as her hair and makeup, but she was all devil that morning. The startled helpers hired for the wedding moved from her path in haste, parting like Red Sea. Her anger decreased somewhat after the tailor delivered her mother-of-the-bride dress. She would look spectacular in it.

" _Where_ is everyone?!" she howled. "Why can't they be on time?! My own brats aren't even here. Where are the in-laws? Fuck it. I'm taking a case of champagne to the beach. My job is done."

"Hey, uh, mother, why don't you hand me the champagne glass?" Trunks said softly. "We have several toasts today, and father and I aren't pulling you off the banquet table this time."

Bulma raised the half-empty crystal flute and spun around in her chair. Portraits shook along the walls. Holding hands, Trunks and Sonali stepped backward.

"Oh, lay off of me, Boy Scout," she barked. "You know I don't get to drink that often now, and just because your father starts off quiet with his alcohol buzz doesn't mean he's immune from acting like a fool. Remember when he pranced around at our silver wedding anniversary reception swearing in two languages? The guests thought he was entertaining, laughing along with him, not knowing the horrific things he said."

Trunks flinched at that unpleasant memory. Piccolo, the wise and stoic Namekian sage, first brought the problem to his attention. He, too, knew those dialects well enough to understand what Vegeta was doing. Trunks and friends managed to remove his father, realizing how close the prince was to offending everyone in their own language - or blowing holes in the walls.

So yeah, these were moments in which his parents were far from graceful around others, but friends who knew them well accepted that long ago. Vegeta and Bulma's grace came from within their spousal bond. Sonali told Trunks the night after they married she hoped their union would be that strong, aside from arguments. He held his wife close for reassurance but said nothing. How his folks lasted this long was nothing short of a miracle. They had worked hard and deserved happiness for however long it endured.

Trunks never took their abundance for granted. It had been almost two years since Bulma had a stroke. She was stricken at her office three weeks after his parents' anniversary. Her left side was semi-paralyzed, which devastated everyone, especially Vegeta, who immediately sought supernatural help beyond traditional medicine. Dende, Earth's guardian, said he couldn't heal her without doing it for everyone. Illness was a part of life. Exceptions were given sometimes, but the reasons for them had to be rock-solid. Vegeta was angry, but he accepted the decision. His response would have been much uglier in the past.

He watched the physical therapist for almost a month until he became impatient with Bulma's progress and took over. At first he worried about overworking her, at least by human standards, but her state of mind wasn't good. He saw her slipping away. Full recovery was the expectation, and no matter how much his wife cried and cursed him, Vegeta stood firm. She was a Saiyan's mate and she would fight. End of story.

Bulma's speaking had been affected as well. Trunks and Bulla knew their father had been deeply hurt by that too, blaming himself for her impairment. He had been unaware earlier that day when she became ill. An assistant had found her on the floor. It was the first and only time since they partnered that Vegeta had relaxed psychic connection to his wife and children.

Trunks took a huge breath to set aside those thoughts. Though her words came out more slowly, his mother was once again giving orders like a drill sergeant. He gently grasped her left arm and smiled. She was beautiful in many ways.

Bulma handed her champagne glass to him and sniffed. "And just what are you grinning at, son?"

"Mom, here, let me help you stand. Perhaps you should take five minutes and see our back yard. People are gathering there now. "

"And they're still late." Bulma tapped her crutch on the floor imperiously. "Sonali, darling, aren't you coming with us?"

"I'll join you soon, Dr. Brief. I need to inspect the twins."

Bulma gave her a disapproving look. "The nanny should have them properly dressed already, honey."

Trunks winked at his wife. What a fine day this would be.

Bulma intensely loved her Saiyan prince and their biracial children. They had been tireless supporters after her stroke. Since then they had also become more overprotective, which she understood, but it was getting on her nerves. Vegeta, especially, was furious when she asked him not to track her _ki_ signature while she attended their daughter's party. She wanted to have a good time and get a little tipsy without stress.

Mostly Bulma wanted her husband to trust himself again. He was strong in countless ways, but, when it came to her, his emotions were becoming more like tissue paper, and she didn't like it. She always welcomed Vegeta being comfortable enough to show emotion with her, but there was more to this. She felt like they had been reversing roles ever since her recovery. Unless he faced more war battles, he likely had a long road ahead given Saiyans' life span. Bulma did not. Humans hadn't effectively mastered the art of extending lives past 110 years without some disability, with some exceptions. Most weren't fortunate enough to learn magic either, which could extend life-expectancy. Those powers were for the greater good, same as the Dragon Balls.

But Bulma didn't see herself anywhere close to death. Vegeta's job was to fight, defend Earth, and teach others to do the same without hesitation. She planned to forcefully remind him that morning, but he didn't awaken her like he usually did. He always kissed her head once and left. But that didn't happen.

Trunks looked around the back yard. "Where is Vegeta, mom? I can't sense him right now."

"I don't know where he is, son. I hoped you could tell me."


	2. Explanation

**Summary: The clock is ticking away before Bulla's wedding. Where's papa?**

* * *

 _Here comes trouble._

Trunks wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he and his mother stood in the house library. It was getting warmer, and his unease about Vegeta was aggravating the discomfort. Now his sister had decided to make a grand entrance. She walked up behind them wearing a baby doll shirt and jeans, sipping a soda.

"Wow, you look great, mom! Where is daddy? Has he seen you dressed up yet? I see your brunch is going well. Are you happy now that all of West City is here?"

"Hey, sis, one question at a time if you don't mind," Trunks said with a playful grin.

Bulla slapped his shoulder gently. "Oh, yeah. Hi, Trunks. I almost didn't recognize you. You cleaned up well. Keep up the good work."

"Hello to you too, princess," he said. "Glad you're thrilled to see me."

"You've been here for two weeks." Bulla danced around him like a tiny ballerina. "Am I supposed to be excited or something? Did you find me and Todd a cool wedding gift?"

"Hmmm." Trunks furrowed his eyebrows as if were giving the question serious thought. "It's hard to buy gifts for a woman who has everything. You could use a new hair brush, though. Your horse's mane looks a little wild."

Trunks blocked Bulla's arm before she could punch him. Her legs flailed wildly as he threw her over his shoulder.

"Put me down right now, Trunks! This is crazy! You have a suit on! Okay, I am so ignoring you after this."

"Put her down, son." Bulma said. "Can you both do me a favor? Try being adults for ten minutes? Darling, why are you here? No one should see you yet. That's why I arranged a private brunch for the wedding party. All of you girls are late, along with the groomsmen. I do know that."

Bulla sighed and inspected guests in the back yard. "Oh please, mom. It's not like I'm in my wedding dress, and the girls and guys are eating. Now where is daddy? I think he wanted to talk a couple days ago, but I ran off to do something else and never got back to him. I feel bad now."

"I'm father sure wasn't offended, sis," Trunks said. "You should probably return to your guests."

Bulla smiled, but the response didn't match the growing irritation appearing in her eyes. " _Well_ , I'd still like to see him, big brother. My guests are fine. So, um, where is he?"

Trunks and Bulma exchanged glances.

Bulla clenched her right fist and began rubbing it with her other hand. The young woman often did this to soothe her temper, but, alas, it wouldn't work this time.

 _Countdown…_

Trunks closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 _Three…_

He didn't know which family member he needed to worry about more, including him.

 _Two…_

Vegeta better have a damn good explanation.

 _One…_

He really needed some wine. He hoped Sonali had a glass ready.  
 _  
Fire!_

" _What is going on with you two?!_ " Bulla stamped her feet so hard that the floorboards in the library shook. " _Where is daddy?! Are you hiding something from me?_ "

" _Stop this right now_ ," Bulma's words came out more slowly, but her firm scolding immediately brought her hotheaded daughter into sullen submission. "You will not do this here, Bulla. Vegeta needed time alone. I didn't expect him to attend brunch. It's better this way considering how busy we'll be tonight. He'll be in a better mood to handle the activity."

Trunks overlooked his mother's white lie. _Well done._

"Fine, then." Giving the yard one last look, Bulla swept her hair back and returned to the main corridor. "I'll give daddy the benefit of the doubt. Tell me as soon as he's back, okay?"

"Of course," Bulma said. "I'll be up to watch your hair stylist after one. Bye."

Bulma stepped forward and raised her left arm gradually to put on her sunglasses. She was pleased that activity had become easier. Then she looked at her leg brace.

"Trunks, let's walk to the canopy outside. I want to sit again for a bit. I will be on my feet a lot later."

"No problem, mom. Are you sure you don't want the hover cart to help you move around the grounds today?"

Bulma shook her head. "I would rather not. Not yet. I'll be fine. Being tired now is my fault. I plodded through the house like a crazy person before you found on me. The good news is I'm trying a new electrical stimulation treatment for my leg soon with my doctor. Your father and I need to change my exercise regimen. He's still tough on me, but I do pull back sometimes."

"I understand," Trunks said. "You don't have to explain more."

"Trunks, I am concerned about your father, but I know he's physically okay, even though I don't have your sensing ability. I just have no idea what this is about."

"This sounds terrible, mom, but I'm glad Bulla doesn't know how to track _ki_. She would be more worried about not sensing him."

Trunks waved at Sonali, who had their children in tow. As they entered the canopy, other familiar faces surrounded him and his mother.

"Hello, Bulma!

"Trunks! Hey, man!

"You guys look great! How are you?"

The ever-growing Son family had arrived. Goku and wife Chi hugged Bulma, while their sons Goten and Gohan and their wives exchanged embraces with Trunks.

Goku licked his lips in anticipation. "There's so much food around here, Bulma! Will it be like this all day?"

Chi-Chi slapped the back of his head. The sound echoed like a whip crack. " _Goku!_ Stop being rude! You've been here for all of three minutes. At least talk to our friends before becoming a nuisance."

Everyone laughed, including Goku.

"Some things never change," Trunks said. "No worries, Chi-Chi. He's fine. Please, make yourselves comfortable and eat as much as you'd like. That's what it's here for. Our attendants will help the youngest children prepare their plates, and then we can set them all free to play."

Trunks looked at his mother and nodded, and then he pulled Sonali aside to discuss his plans. The worried look on her face caught Gohan's attention. Goku, who was surrounded by servants and boisterous children, appeared too busy filling plates with food to notice.

Gohan silently motioned at his brother to approach Trunks as soon as Sonali walked away. They flanked him, putting their arms around his shoulders and walking with him to the house library. Bulma and Chi-Chi smiled. Their boys filled them with pride, and their bond was unshakable.

"Hey, man," Goten said. "Is something wrong?"

Gohan sipped on his champagne. "Vegeta isn't here. I can't sense him. That's the problem, isn't it?"

Gohan never wastes time, Trunks thought.

"Yeah, man. No one has seen father all morning. He never goes anywhere these days without telling mom, at least not until today."

"Do you think he's in danger?" Goten said.

Trunks faced them. "Guys, I don't believe he is, but I am concerned about his state of mind. Plus, my sister and mother will probably lose it if he doesn't show up soon."

Gohan handed his glass to Goten and leaned against the wall. "Well, we Saiyans stick together, so let's brainstorm quickly about where he could be."

"Fellas, how come you left me out?" Goku said from the entryway. He was carrying a giant plate of meat. "I may be getting older, but my hearing is better than all of you combined."

The three of them turned around.

"Dad, Trunks says no one can find Vegeta," Goten said.

"Vegeta doesn't want to be found, apparently, especially not by a crowd, Goten. He'll return. He always does."

Goku was sure of himself, Trunks thought, and that could only mean one thing. He tried not to lose his composure.

"You know where he is, don't you, Goku?" he said. "That's why you're so calm."

"What the hell is going on, dad?" Gohan said. "So just tell us. This isn't fair to anyone."

"It's not about fairness," Goku said. "Besides, I already told Bulma just now. I figured you guys were plotting your own rescue mission, so that's why I'm here."

"I can't believe this!" Trunks stood over a desk in the room, moving his hands along the edges. "Why would he pull this move now - and why would he let you know before the rest of us, Goku?"

"I really don't know, Trunks. I just sensed where he was before our family arrived here. To answer your first question, perhaps because he feels guilty for not being excited like the rest of you. Maybe he feels like he's in the way. Maybe he's angry because he's overwhelmed by feelings he doesn't know how to express. Vegeta is still Vegeta, you know. You have a lot to work with there."

Trunks wasn't impressed with Goku's defense, and he was furious. His father had rejected his attempt to talk earlier. It's not like they hadn't shared problems before. He couldn't understand.

"So father told you this?" he said. "This is one hell of a time for him to have a second midlife crisis. What you're not saying is you know damn well he may not show up at all today. What am I supposed to do if that happens?"

"Dad, you're not helping," Gohan said. "It's time to end this. If what you're saying is true, maybe it's better for all of us to get him back here. We've knocked sense into him before."

"Trunks, Vegeta said nothing to me, but as I told you, he'll be here." Goku loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. "He knows I can't keep secrets mostly, so why would he let me sense his location? Anyway, guys, just hear me out. You can't argue and fight with someone this long without noticing little things too. I can't say all of my thoughts will be correct, but maybe you can put yourself in his shoes."

"Okay, fine," Trunks said. "I'll listen, but time is passing by here."

Goku smiled and sat next to him on the desk. "We have enough time, son. Look, days like this often cause most mature men to reflect hard on their lives. Vegeta and I have accomplished feats many times over that others have called impossible. We have died more than once and received another chance at life. We have harnessed the powers of gods to become stronger and test our limits. When you achieve this much and look down to what might happen next, your weaknesses and deepest fears sometimes slap you in the face - hard - and priorities change."

"What do you mean, dad?"

"Simple, Goten. We're getting old! Our wives and families are changing, and we worry about you differently. Yes, we are very strong, but we still wonder about threats that we may not be able to handle. We question our commitment to the mission we set for ourselves."

"Goku, I really doubt that Vegeta worries about those last two," Trunks replied.

"Don't be so sure. Trunks, your father is feeling the weight of the unavoidable. You just can't prevent some things in life. He understands that, but it doesn't mean he can't feel sad or maybe even a little scared by it. He has a lot more to lose at this point. All of you will go through this. Trust me on that."

The room was quiet. Trunks wiped his face and looked up.

"How can I help him, Goku?"

"I can take you to him now if you're ready, son."

The men formed a circle around Trunks, patting him on the back.

Gohan sensed his daughter approaching the door from outside and turned around.

"What's wrong, Pan?"

"What's going on in here, dad? I think you need to find Vegeta now."

A visibly angry Chi-Chi stepped in front of her granddaughter. "Bulma is not feeling well, Goku, all because that selfish husband of hers isn't here!"

"Chi-Chi, wait," Goku pleaded. "You don't understand…"

Trunks had been so preoccupied that he had almost forgotten about his mother.

"Don't be alarmed, Trunks," Pan said. "Bulma is okay. I checked her out. She got overheated, and she's somewhat dehydrated. I told her to take it easy before the wedding starts. My mother and Sonali said they will oversee final preparations. I'll be with Bulla to help her get ready."

Chi-Chi was undeterred by her granddaughter's news. "I don't need to understand anything, Goku," she snapped. "You have two minutes - two - to drag to Vegeta back here _. Why can't he feel Bulma now, hmmm_? Because he's selfish! I swear, I will pray to one of the gods to send that man to hell for a third time."

"Grandmother, calm down." Pan rubbed the woman's hands to soothe her. "Everything will be fine. I am a good nurse, you know."

Chi-Chi walked toward the middle of the room. "Pan, trust me, I have dealt with this long time, and now I want my say. They all should hear this. Our families have shouldered some of the toughest responsibilities anyone could face. The problem is when someone runs off and makes decisions - ones that could be discussed - that could affect everyone else. Sometimes the choices made aren't even that helpful. Then you make excuses for it. Saiyan or not, it's self-centered."

Goku walked over to his crying wife and held her. "You're right Chi-Chi, and I don't mind saying this again. I'm sorry that I hurt you and the boys. I also stand by some decisions because I thought they would protect you. I will still make mistakes, just like anyone else, and just like Vegeta. _And I will give him credit for the changes he's made_ , _regardless_. You're angry with me, not him."

Holding his hand, Chi-Chi stepped back. "Go."

Goku raised his right fingers to his forehead. "You ready, son?" Trunks nodded and moved forward.

Then they disappeared.


	3. I'm Still Here

**Summary: Trunks and Vegeta discuss the peaks and valleys of relationships, and what the future holds. Bulma has her piece to say as well.**

* * *

Over the years Trunks watched with great respect, and sometimes envy, the remarkable maturation of his father's fighting skills. Vegeta shattered barriers, reaching heights others considered unattainable. Aside from the prince's once-unshakable goal to surpass Goku, much had changed in his approach as well. His movements were more controlled - some would call them graceful, even - as if he were playing a seasoned violin. His rituals had become an effective, comforting way to look inward. They steadied his mind. They were used with careful precision and thoughtful wisdom.

He had become his strongest teacher.

This is how Goku and Trunks found Vegeta, practicing his form, stepping, and turning. His hands dashed through the air like diving birds, outshining the seagulls flying overhead. Out of respect and concern, neither man interrupted his concentration.

Trunks thought he saw a trace of regret in father's eyes once the practice ended.

"Are you feeling better now, father?"

Vegeta approached the edge of the headland overlooking the sea below. Goku didn't give Trunks a chance to thank him for his help. After taking a hard look at the prince, the man teleported away as quickly as they had arrived. Trunks removed his jacket and shoes and followed his father to the end of the cliff.

Still facing the sea, Vegeta inhaled. Trunks grabbed a handful of rocks to throw into the water.

"So why this part of the coast? You could have gone anywhere."

Vegeta's eyes remained focused on the coastal plain. "Your mother and I proposed to each other here."

"Proposed to each other?" The look on Trunks' face relaxed into amusement and curiosity. "Well, I'll be damned. You are a romantic - and a liberal one at that."

Vegeta looked at him darkly. "Trunks, if you value your life, I would suggest that you avoid making more jokes."

He's threatening me, so he hasn't lost his mind completely. Trunks considered this response a good sign. "Look, we don't have many hours before your spoiled and bad-tempered daughter marries. She wants to see you, so I would suggest that -"

"Your mother told me to stay here."

"You spoke with her?"

Vegeta nodded. "I felt unsteadiness in Bulma's ki before you arrived, so I spoke with her telepathically. She tired herself out this week. I tried to warn her."

Trunks handed his father some rocks throw. He recalled when Vegeta brought him to a similar place to train during his preteen years. Trunks called it "punishment cove" because he often received the hardest drills there, when he disobeyed his parents. The boy usually had his ass handed to him, of course, but this time the prince held back and took Trunks' blows. The day ended up being heartbreaking for them both. There Trunks learned about the man who had once been a vicious killer. By the end Vegeta was on his knees, quietly listening to his son wail and declare hatred for him.

After that day, Trunks asked to leave home for a year of advanced schooling. Vegeta supported him despite Bulma's unhappiness about it, knowing that the boy needed space to absorb the shock. He was prepared to endure grief over losing his son's love and respect forever. Fortunately, that didn't happen.

Fortunately.

So that's why father is upset. I can't let him do this. Trunks handed him another stack of pebbles.

"Help me understand. How is your absence helping? I understand why mom told you to stay, but you know she doesn't mean it."

"Bulma said I should not attend the wedding if I am unable to show appropriate enthusiasm, and that I must explain myself to your sister without her."

"Fair enough," Trunks replied. "What I can't get is why you let Goku sense your whereabouts before anyone else."

"I suppose it was a moment of weakness, son."

"Sounds more like a distress call to me."

"Just stop it, Trunks! Stop trying to figure me out. I do not know how I feel right now. I do... not know."

Trunks faced him. "Father, you don't have to tell her."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to tell Bulla what you told me - you know, about the person you once were. You're struggling with it."

Vegeta dropped the rest of the pebbles into the sea. "I remember the deadened look in your eyes. For all of my battles, that was one of the toughest. I am ashamed to say this, but I do not want to suffer through the experience again. Bulla may not recover from it like you eventually did. I know my daughter."

"Well, if this makes you feel any better, I would rather have her continue knowing you as this Vegeta - the man mother and I forgave, along with everyone else. The gods restored your life for good reasons. Now, please, come home with me."

"She's too young to marry, Trunks."

"Okay, so where is this issue coming from now? Sonali and I were two years older than Bulla is now when we became engaged."

"I thought you were not ready either, at least at first."

"Why? You never said anything about it."

"Trunks, you were angry at the world for so long because of me. I did not want you to bring someone you loved that much into it, as I did with Bulma from the beginning. Your mother was not naïve, though. She knew what she was getting into, but I still got lucky."

Trunks smiled. "You're damned right you got lucky."

Vegeta gave him a slight grin and looked down. "Unlike me, I knew your anger would not cause you to physically harm anyone without decent reasons. You were still a good child. I just wanted you to know yourself before taking that next step, which you did. The way you responded to Sonali's requests one night, when we were together, told me everything I needed. After that, I wanted you to have the wedding you wanted."

"So what about Bulla?"

"Your sister is naïve," Vegeta replied, crossing his arms defiantly. "She has not faced the terrors you did. She needs more life experience."

Trunks resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Let me get this straight. You're saying we need more threats to Earth to make her a better adult?"

"Do not test my patience. Your sister needs more self-discipline, and you know it. She is also too trusting. I still want to bury her idiot fiancé in a ditch somewhere."

"Bulla is tougher than you think, and you are projecting your fears onto her, like you did with me. Stop making excuses."

"I am not making excuses!"

Trunks felt his face his turning red. "Damn it. We now have five hours left. Bulla is probably screaming at someone because you're not there, and I left my wife and children in that mess. You will not wallow in any more self-pity today. I'm prepared to drag your crotchety ass back there or die trying."

Fuck. Why did I just say that to him? I'm the idiot.

A gleeful glint appeared in Vegeta's eyes. "Oh, really? That sounds like a challenge. I am disappointed in you, boy. How many times have I said do not make empty threats? They can get you killed."

Shit. Now he's calling me 'boy.' He can't be serious. Trunks swallowed nervously while removing his tie and dress shirt. How did this once-joyous occasion turn into a blood match?

Gods help him. Vegeta had hell-fire on his side.

"Bring it on, old man."

"Hn."

Father and son smirked as they raised their hands and stepped one leg forward.

Pride.

As Trunks barreled in, Vegeta arms crossed, blocking his son's right punch with an inside back-hand strike to the head. The prince sighed watching him stumble backward.

"Disgraceful," he taunted. "That was a warning shot, boy. You can stop -"

Trunks spun around with an axe kick to his father's chin and then flipped over his head, landing a double-fisted strike from the back. As Trunks took off in the air, Vegeta appeared with lightening-speed in front of his son, and then behind him, pulling him into a tight shoulder-lock.

Vegeta heckled Trunks with his laughter. "Are we done? Hmm?"

"Father, wait a minute! Do you feel that?"

"I do." Vegeta lowered his arms, appearing disappointed. "Damn. You were going to be my last stretching exercise. I have been a little stiff lately."

Within seconds, the men each had a squirming child in hand.

"Dad!

"Elder!"

"Can we play too?! We saw you. You looked cool!"

"You were going to fight more, dad, weren't you?"

Trunks wiped sweat from his chest. Oh, thank heavens for my nosy kids. This bastard would have continued beating me for pure fun until he got bored - using one-eighth his power, probably.

Vegeta frowned. "What are you brats doing here? You are interrupting my conversation with your father."

"Elder, we've never seen you fight together," Tery said. "We felt something and figured it was you, and Son Goku kind of told us where you were."

Vegeta rammed his fist into his hand. "Tch. Kakarot has been busy today."

Tasmin pouted. "Dad, you never help us train while we visit elder and grandma - just at home. Is it because he's stronger? Are you guys mad at each other or something now?"

"Children!" Vegeta's thunderous baritone voice made them stand at attention - Trunks, too. "You are not doing yourselves any favors by questioning us like this. Knock it off."

"Father is right," Trunks said, "but since you asked, first, we had a disagreement. We are not angry with each other. Second, your elder is stronger… in some ways, and I have no problem with that. He is the finest trainer anyone can have. You are very lucky to have him, and I want you spending more time together."

Trunks paused to put his shirt and shoes on. Then he looked at his father.

"What?" Vegeta said impatiently. "We don't have all day."

"Sonali and I are moving back to West City," Trunks said. "We planned to tell you and mom tonight. Now can we go home, please?"

"Yay!" the children said together.

"That is… a surprise," Vegeta said gruffly, looking at the youngsters. "Well, you two better make your constant presence at my house worth my time. Understand?"

 **"** Right!" Tery said.

"We should leave," Vegeta continued. "Children, get your father's jacket and fly behind us. Trunks and I have more to discuss."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Chi-Chi and Sonali had just finished helping Bulma dress when Trunks and Vegeta entered the sitting room.

"Mom, you look gorgeous."

"Of course I do." Bulma said playfully. "Now give Vegeta and me time alone, Trunks. About thirty minutes should be enough. Tell your sister we'll be ready soon."

"I will do that. How are you?"

"I'm fine, son. Go find that lovely wife of yours."

Vegeta took his wife's arm, recognizing her tiredness. He considered carrying her the rest of the night.

"You sure do look sexy," she said. "You and Trunks did a great job, as always. Sit next to me. I need to adjust your bow tie."

"You are still very angry," Vegeta said. "I can feel it."

"What do you expect?" Bulma said softly. "You disappeared for hours and hid your location. Worse, you used our son for a punching bag. What the hell were you thinking?"

Vegeta said nothing. The disappointment in her voice made him feel worse, as it should have.

Bulma let go of his hand. "Oh, you have nothing to say? That's unusual. You better find a reason quickly because there's no way you're sleeping in our bed again if you can't."

"What more do you expect me to say, woman? You have overworked yourself for weeks. Worse, you spent a night partying with girls less than half your age. Now look at you. Everyone else encouraged this nonsense. I could not."

"Nonsense?" Bulma grabbed her cane. "How dare you talk down to me after the stunt you pulled today - and I'm not that old, you jerk."

"You had a stroke and almost died!" Vegeta shouted, stomping to the other side of the room. "We worked hard, and now I feel like you are trying to -"

Bulma paused to speak clearly. "Trying to what? Throw it all away? Is that what you think? Why aren't you happy anymore that I'm doing well? I hollered and cried my way through therapy with you for this, even though some days I still wanted to roll over and die. Even the kids didn't realize that."

Vegeta picked her up while tears streamed down her face. He rested his forehead on Bulma's, losing himself in her vibrant eyes.

"Hand me some tissues now because I will not ruin this dress," she said, prompting an annoyed grunt from her husband until they kissed. "Look, honey, I know we agreed I would retire from running most of Capsule Corporation, but you must leave me something to hold on to."

Vegeta felt a lump in his throat - a new feeling. He understood what she meant, but the words still hurt.

"How about trying me, Bulma?"

Trunks knocked gently on the door. "Are you two almost done? We need to take our places soon. Do you need any help?"

After kissing again, Bulma nudged Vegeta to put her down. "No, son," she replied. "We're coming."


	4. Ceremonies

**Summary: The Brief family gathers for Bulla's wedding, now that all members are present. Vegeta and Bulma set aside differences about their marriage for now to celebrate. But first, the bride has some thoughts to share.**

* * *

"Daddy?"

Bulla had been standing near the mirror examining the front of her wedding dress. She was pleased Vegeta was finally there with her, but his solemn appearance left her uneasy.

"Hello, princess."

"How long have you been standing there?" she said, lifting the back of her gown. "Is something wrong?"

"Not very long," Vegeta replied, "and, no, nothing is wrong. You mother is reapplying her makeup, so she sent me away."

"Oh, you almost sound disappointed," Bulla giggled as she and Vegeta sat down together. "Are you ready for me to walk me down the aisle? We only have an hour and a half left!"

Vegeta was amazed at how much his "little girl" resembled her mother at that moment. Then he considered how surreal it felt to be anyone's father. Those thoughts were rarely far from his mind these days, especially as he recalled Bulla's birth. She was the child he and Bulma chose to have. While the couple loved their children equally, their decision to bring another life into the world confidently, together, represented hope for the future. Bulla and Trunks' love and companionship challenged Vegeta's once deeply held cynicism about living. He always would remain guarded - that was just his nature - but he was able to give more openly and generously overall because of his love for them. He was a doer. No need to make a show of it.

"Actually, I am not ready," he told her, "but it is too late to stop you now, I suppose."

Bulla paid him no mind. Instead she snuggled next to him, which usually relieved whatever happened to be bothering him.

"Let me guess. No one will ever be good enough for your princess."

"I would not say that," Vegeta replied, cracking his knuckles. "The man might have a chance if he could beat me in a fight. Todd does not fit that description."

"Hn." Bulla cocked her head. "Daddy, are you ever going to like him?"

"Only if you have children who look like me or you," Vegeta said, and he didn't appear to be joking. "You have many options available for genetic manipulation these days."

Bulla wisely allowed that conversation to die. Even as a child she made it hard for Vegeta to resist her demands. He was strict, but he also pampered her in myriad ways. He felt guilty about not being tougher sometimes, though, like with Trunks. He wanted her to move forward with wisdom and awareness. Marriage or not, she needed that knowledge to be safe when he and Bulma weren't there anymore. Then he considered Trunks' words to him earlier: "Bulla is tougher than you think."

"Todd is still alive to marry you, Bulla. Thank me for that and do not expect more. Your mother deserves all praise for the rest of this spectacle."

"True," Bulla said, kissing her father's cheek. "I guess I should be satisfied with that."

The young woman expected her father to be irritable in the way she always had known him to be, particularly when forced into energetic social occasions, but this felt different. Vegeta tried to be stoic but wasn't hiding his emotions well. The last time he acted like this was after Bulma's stroke. At first Bulla hesitated about her next steps, but the time had come.

"Hey, daddy, are you OK?"

"Bulla, really, I am fine." Vegeta said. "Do not distract yourself. I have been alive for a long time - more or less. Not much disturbs or surprises me at this point."

Bulla wagged her hand at him, signaling her annoyance. "Will you get my veil then, please? It's in the next room, and bring my makeup bag too."

Vegeta muttered unintelligible words as he retrieved the accessories. Like Bulma, his daughter had a terrible habit of leaving important personal effects everywhere. It irritated the hell out of him.

"Are there no servants to assist you?" he said peevishly. "Where are your useless bridesmaids? I should not be doing chores."

"So you say nothing disturbs you?" Bulla yelled from the adjacent room. "I really don't appreciate you lying to me on my wedding day."

Vegeta observed the luxurious surroundings. They were light years from the bleakness of his youth. Beyond his rage, he also remembered the loneliness and shame of arriving on Earth all those years ago, with nowhere else to go. Now that he finally understood happiness, aging had made it harder not to dwell on possibly losing it. His family was a safe haven. He was far too cantankerous to ever be called "soft," but he was more comfortable with sentimentality, as least for a battle-weary Saiyan.

Bulla had more than her wedding on her mind. Vegeta knew that when she greeted him. She usually wandered through their talks until feeling secure enough to express herself fully. Listening taught him more about patience than any exercise ever would. Bulma was chatty, but her communication was more direct, like his.

"Bulla, say whatever it is you want to tell me," he replied, handing over her personal items. "I am trying to be as outwardly supportive as I can. At least give me credit for that. If you need more validation, then let me have a few drinks first."

After fastening her veil, Bulla grabbed his hands and looked up at him. "I know what happened, daddy."

Vegeta's body stiffened. He exhaled and bowed his head.

Bulla's tiny hands tightened around his, even as he tried pulling away. This was the last thing he wanted, particularly today. He had told Trunks that.

"No, daddy," Bulla said. Vegeta could barely look at her, but she knew he wouldn't cast her aside. "You stay right here and look at me. I know."

"But… but… who told you?"

"It doesn't matter," she replied calmly, "but clearly I'm the last one to know. What did mom and you do, threaten everyone into keeping quiet?"

""Something like that," Vegeta said, shaking his head, "but please, princess, this is not the time. Please."

Listening to his pleas pained Bulla, but there was no turning back now. "It is time. I can handle it."

Vegeta looked away again. "Many people on Earth have committed lesser crimes than mine, and they are jailed for life. If everyone knew my identity - what I was - do you really think…"

"Well, they don't know, and you're doing your part to keep others safe now," Bulla said, "and that's all that should be known about our family. You were given a blank slate to change. As far as most people are concerned, the more immigrants from other places we have to support our way of life the better."

"And yet you continue to love me," Vegeta said. "As a boy, your brother did not handle the truth well - and for a long time afterward."

Bulla wrapped one of her fingers around Vegeta's thumb, squeezing it. The affectionate gesture began when she was young, whenever they were being mischievous together. Returning the deed, Vegeta stroked her cheek. He should've known better than to underestimate her. Her empathy and understanding were as far-reaching as her mother's.

"I love you because you are my daddy," she said gently. "I love you because I know how much you love me and mom and Trunks and Sonali. You're a proud grandfather to my niece and nephew, who treasure you. You're grumpy, stubborn, smart, funny, annoying, tough, determined, loyal - and you're a great mentor. What is there not to love? And now I need you to walk me down the aisle to marry, because I need my father's support."

Vegeta tried to maintain self-control. He wiped his eyes, and then he covered his face. Bulla, who never had seen her father break down before, started crying alongside him.

"I feared you would hate me, Bulla. I stopped caring long ago about others' opinions of me - but my family, you are all I have. You are all I have."

"I know this is hard, but I'm the only one here," she said, embracing him. "I see you, daddy. It's OK now. You don't have to hide this side anymore. We're not going to leave you."

* * *

Bulma had been watching her daughter and new son-in-law laugh and kiss through their first dance together as a married couple, along with their friends. Vegeta chose to have a cigar and drink outside of the reception tent, accompanied by Trunks. The evening was gorgeous, and none of the Brief women resented their desire to enjoy it. Sonali joined them, too. She challenged Vegeta to play chess, which he accepted with his typical smugness. She taught him the game, and now he was determined to win. Trunks reclined in a chair while his wife and father trashed each other's skills. By this time the men had removed their tuxedo jackets and loosened their ties. Sonali's shoes were strewn somewhere in the grass.

Vegeta's hands rubbed together as he studied the chessboard. Sonali's eyes narrowed.

"I will break you, woman."

"Dude, I taught you," she replied. "What an arrogant comment for a beginner! Look at this, it's been six months already and your technique is still pitiful."

"Trunks, where did you find this brazen woman again?" Vegeta tapped his cigar ashes on the ground. "Did hell reject her?"

"Seems to me that you both should be silent and concentrate," Bulma said. "Don't forget that you haven't beaten me yet, and I had a stroke."

Vegeta stood to help her. "That is not funny - not at all."

"Oh, just sit down, Vegeta. From what I see you're losing dreadfully again, and I can walk over there by myself."

"Hn." She needs rest. She will fall asleep in that chair soon enough, I guess. Vegeta pretended he wasn't paying attention, even though Bulma knew he couldn't help himself. His desire to attend to every need was intense, but he promised to give her space.

Bulma was tired - very tired - but the joy everyone experienced that evening was worth the trouble. Her family came together in more ways than one. She had started to doze when the twins sped past like little fireballs.

"Elder, grandma, we want to ask you something!" Tery said.

"Tery, Tasmin, calm down," Trunks scolded. "You see your mother and grandfather playing chess here, and grandma needs a break now."

"Sorry, dad," Tasmin said, "but it's really important."

"It damn well better be," Vegeta said, putting down his cigar. "It is past your bedtime anyway."

Bulma rose in her chair. "Well, what is it?"

"Grandma, we were looking at your wedding pictures at home yesterday," Tasmin said. "The dates don't match from the big anniversary you had before. We did the math. You have been married longer, right?"

Vegeta pulled his chair over to get a better view of Bulma and the children. Tasmin's precocious question amused both grandparents.

"Yes, we have been married longer," Vegeta replied. "Those pictures are from our second wedding ceremony."

"You married twice?" Tery said.

"Well, kind of, honey," Bulma said. "We consider the first the official date, so we celebrate our anniversaries from there. Our 25th anniversary two years ago counts in that."

Trey scratched his head. "I don't understand."

"Bulma and I had a Saiyan ceremony the first time, and we have two pictures," Vegeta said. "They are not in that album."

"Yeah," Bulma replied sarcastically, "and I had to argue with Vegeta to have those taken. He agreed to the second ceremony a year before your aunt Bulla was born."

Tasmin climbed into her father's lap, while Tery planted himself in the grass near Bulma's chair.

"Wow, so what was the Saiyan one like?" the boy asked.

Vegeta nodded to Trunks, who helped Bulma remove her dress jacket. A small Saiyan crest marked her left arm, matching the larger brand on Vegeta's left arm.

The couple's eyes met.


	5. A Little Joke

**Summary: Bulma and Vegeta's grandchildren peppered them with questions about their marriage, offering the couple a chance to reveal how they sealed their bond together. More fun ensues, courtesy of Trunks' wife.  
**

* * *

"Were you at the Saiyan ceremony, dad?"

"Of course I was, Tery," Trunks said. "I helped your grandfather brand her."

"You did what?!" Shocked, Sonali almost dropped her wine glass. "Trunks, you never told me that. I knew about her brand, but this?"

Trunks laughed. "You never asked, dear. You could have asked mom, too."

Sonali looked over at her. "Bulma?"

Bulma's eyes closed. "Yes, he helped." Her speech slowed, which usually happened when she was worn out. "There is a… a lot…"

Watching his wife deliberately and needlessly test the limits of his patience infuriated Vegeta. Their storytelling together, while interesting, became a lesser priority.

"That is it," he said, extinguishing his cigar. "You all have asked enough questions for tonight. Bulma is exhausted."

Trunks and Sonali prayed an argument wouldn't happen. If not, then the rest of their night would be spent calming down the other two. Trunks, however, agreed that his mother needed to leave.

"No, Vegeta," Bulma protested. "Just hand me some water. I can stay. I'm enjoying myself. We've never done this together before."

Vegeta stood over her. "You will not stay here, and that is final. Trunks, take your mother home. I will tell the rest of the story since it is important to you."

"OK, OK." Feeling her eyes and limbs growing heavier, Bulma touched his hand. "You win."

"Yeah, grandma," Tasmin said. "We're sorry. Tery and I didn't mean to make you tired."

"Come here, precious." Bulma kissed the side of her head. "You didn't make me tired, and that's the truth. Good night."

Everyone stood as she and Trunks exited. The wedding partygoers left en masse, too, courtesy of an efficient fleet of transportation Bulma ordered, including buses and hovercraft.

"Kids, let me talk with Vegeta for a while," Sonali said. "We'll call you back here. You're getting a treat by staying up late, and your grandfather always keeps his promises, right?"

"Yes, mom," Tery said. "Always."

"You sure are taking a long time to leave," Vegeta told the twins. "I can easily create work for you two."

"Bye, elder!"

"Bye, mom!"

"Damn," Sonali said, appearing slightly annoyed. "You are so good at that. I'm kind of jealous, dad."

"Have you forgotten who married you?" Vegeta said as he wandered back to the chess table. "Keeping up with Kakarot's son Goten and Trunks as children was good practice. Now what is it?"

"Dad, you must stop doing this with Bulma."

"Doing what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I do not, Sonali," Vegeta replied, relighting his cigar. "And to be honest with you, I have had enough emotional upheaval today to last a lifetime, especially for someone with my temperament. Whatever you think 'this' is, keep it to yourself. The twins are waiting for us."

"All right then." Sonali picked up her glass. "I understand, but I will say this. Bulma didn't celebrate insanely at Bulla's bachelorette party. You know she couldn't have anyway. She just wanted to have some fun, which she did. She didn't even get to see the strippers she hired the entire time -"

"Strippers?" Vegeta glared at her - and then did a double-take. "What do you mean strippers?! Am I hearing you right?"

Guessing what might come next, his shoeless daughter-in-law hurdled into the tent like a track star. She ran head-on into Trunks, laughing so hard that she couldn't speak. Goku, who stayed late to finish the food, walked up behind them.

Trunks' eyes darted around the room. "Baby, what did you do? Where is Vegeta?" His face turned deathly white as Sonali continued laughing. "Oh god, no. Tell me you didn't." He covered her mouth.

Everyone stumbled as the ground beneath the tent buckled. Lightening flashed and cracked overhead.

 _"STRIPPERS!"_

"Holy fucking shit!" After hoisting Sonali on his back, Trunks frantically seized Goku's shoulder. "Go! Go now!"

"Right!" Quickly swallowing food, Goku touched his temple and smirked. "So you poked the old lion again, Sonali?"

"Yeah."

Broken plate pieces scattered in the center in the empty tent.

* * *

Trunks lay in bed with his back to Sonali, exasperated. He refused to let her touch him for an hour after returning to the guest room.

"That little joke you played on my father almost got everyone killed within a 1000-mile radius. Even our children were terrified. You should be ashamed."

Sonali's arms slipped around his waist. "Don't be so uptight, Trunks. Dad threw a tantrum. So what? He needed to purge some of that unhealthy frustration, and the twins got an unvarnished glimpse of his true power for the first time. You'll thank me later for what I did."

"You always say that when you cause trouble." Trunks turned over and pulled up her nightgown. "Well I'm glad I got mom back home quickly. That tent would have crushed you.

"Ahh, yes," Sonali sighed happily as he climbed on top. "But you saved me, darling. You saved me."

Trunks moaned as he thrust inside of her. "Damned…right… I did. Now I must - god this feels good - I must punish you." Sonali promptly yanked him down for a passionate kiss while they continued making love.

It was pitch black outside and long past midnight when Vegeta entered his bedroom. He felt energized and calmer - and somewhat embarrassed. His rage explosion earlier felt refreshing, really, but he also wanted to strangle Sonali for goading him. Falling asleep immediately wouldn't happen, but he climbed into bed anyway. Bulma opened her eyes slightly.

"Are you all right, Vegeta?"

"Yes," he grumbled, brushing his fingers over hers. "You can go back to sleep."

Bulma winced as her body shifted in their bed. "I'm having some pain. Would you hand me my pills? I didn't take enough, and I keep waking up. They will help me sleep better."

"Mmmm." Vegeta smoothing wisps of hair on her face. "That is fine for now, but I would prefer that you take less. You are having more trouble with alertness in the morning. Besides, I am changing your routine with your trainer, and it will hurt. You must tolerate some pain."

Bulma smiled at him. "Yes, sir." Despite his concerns, Vegeta felt relieved after she entered a deep sleep. He could finally get some rest.

The rest of their family greeted him later that morning with a wall of cautious silence. Food filled the dining table - a wonderful sight - but Vegeta felt more entertained seeing everyone scared shitless. He sat next to Sonali.

Trunks, who had been seated there, re-entered the room from the kitchen. He almost felt sorry for his hapless wife - but not that much.

Bulla's new husband bravely opened conversation. "Uh, good morning, sir. Would you like some coffee?"

"No."

"OK." Todd sunk into his chair. "Sure. That's fine."

"Yes, it is fine because this is my house," Vegeta replied, lowering his voice. "Now then, Sonali, would you serve those eggs?"

"Daddy, the eggs are over here," Bulla said from the far end of the table. "I can bring them to you."

"I asked your sister-in-law to serve me, princess," Vegeta said, moving closer to Sonali. "I made a simple request, woman. While you are serving me, run to the kitchen for some juice, since I know are skilled at hurdling. Go ahead. Hop to it like the good girl you are."

Earlier, the twins greeted a bleary-eyed Bulla and Todd, who had been partying with friends all night, about Vegeta's wrathful explosion Sonali must have ticked him off, Bulla concluded. She had to distract him.

"Todd and I are leaving for our honeymoon soon, daddy, and I know you and mom have been to this place before, so - "

"Quiet," Vegeta said sternly. "I know when you are leaving, and you are stating the obvious. We can discuss that later. You both should get some sleep, because I will throw you out tonight."

Trunks snorted at his father's hijacking of the conversation. It was comical, and neither his wife nor his sister had any chance of winning. He leaned on the wall and continued eating his giant bowl of Cheerios. "Kids, go get dressed," he said. "Your food is finished."

"Elder, will you finish the story you promised to tell last night?" Tasmin asked.

"Of course, child, once your mother serves me," Vegeta said. "She understands the importance of deference and contrition. Most smart women do. Is that not correct, Sonali?"

Annoyed, Tery wanted to know what Vegeta meant. "Deference and contrition? Elder, tell us what you're really saying without the big words."

"Enough of this!" Sonali stood and gathered her hair into a knot - her traditional fighting pose - while Trunks continued eating his Cheerios. "You're making a fool of yourself, Vegeta! Who do you think you are? I wouldn't serve you the last cricket on Earth to eat if we were the only people left on this planet!"

"Mommy, why are you mad at elder?" Tasmin asked. "Is it because of what happened last night?"

Vegeta winked at Trunks. "You would find a woman just like your mother. Impressive."

Trunks bowed like an award recipient. Sonali wanted to breathe fire on him. Sex would be out of the question later, he thought, but this was worth it.

"The rest of you get out," Vegeta said. "We need to chat. Do not worry, children. Your mother and I were joking with everyone."

"But that wasn't funny, elder," Tery said.

"Yes, it was," Trunks said, smirking at his wife. "Now do what father requests. I'll walk out with you."

Sonali shut the double doors. Her anger was palpable. Vegeta would get five minutes, maybe less, before she walked out.

"Go to hell, Vegeta."

"Been there already," he replied. "Twice, actually."

Sonali's teeth grated. "Your conceit is revolting. What were you trying to accomplish just now, especially with my children in the room?"

"That is a foolish question." Vegeta placed two coffee mugs in front of him. "I was having fun with you, of course. Your emotional triggers are easy to deduce."

Sonali threw her hands up in the air and proceeded to storm out. "I have had enough of your bullshit."

"Thank you, my daughter, for last night."

* * *

"What did you just say?"

"Sit down," he said, handing coffee to her. "Let me serve you now. Sometimes I wonder if you are too good to be with my son."

"I heard that, you old goat!" Trunks shouted from behind the door.

Vegeta pushed another coffee mug across the table. "That is why I said it, boy. Now come in and finish breakfast."

"Vegeta, when will Bulma eat?" Sonali asked. "I'm a little worried. She's still sleeping? It's mid-morning."

"She's drowsy, so I will bring a tray to her after finishing here. She was having pain overnight and took medicine. We will work on that in therapy. We also wanted to tell you she is retiring from leading Capsule Corporation. She will continue supervising a few projects, with others' help, but not manage daily operations. We made this decision together, but it has been hard on her. She cried for a week afterward."

"Do you have someone in mind to take the position?" Trunks said.

"Well, son, now that you are moving back here, I want to suggest Sonali to your mother. She is talented and sensible. Bulma can guide her. The family keeps majority ownership and appropriate voting power on the board. There will be no encroachments. No one at Capsule will challenge us if they want to stay alive."

"I like that idea." Trunks smiled and took Sonali's hand. "What do you say, honey?"

Sonali felt honored and humbled by their confidence in her. "I happily accept if Bulma agrees, dad."

"Splendid." Vegeta dropped his napkin on the table. "Now I have two promises to keep. Trunks, gather the children and make sure they are dressed properly. You know where to meet. I will be there in an hour and a half."


	6. The Next Challenge

**Summary: Now that the wedding is over, Vegeta and Trunks have promises to keep and stories to tell the youngest members of their family. Separately, Bulma and Vegeta negotiate their terms for their immediate future together as partners.  
**

* * *

Tasmin's eyes examined the width of dusty field surrounding her. It was a little after midday, and Trunks put his hand on her shoulder as wind gusts blew past them. He hadn't been there for a long time, yet he knew instinctively where his father wanted to be.

"Dad, where are we?" she asked.

"Your grandfather will tell you when he arrives, Tasmin."

"You guys act so weird sometimes," Tery said.

"Do we really?" Trunks tousled his son's hair and laughed. "I guess you're right. We are different, and there's nothing wrong with that. We care for others and for each other. That's the most important thing."

"Stop filling my grandchildren's heads with your new-age, touchy-feely nonsense!" Vegeta said. He was standing at the far end of the field dressed in a casual training suit. "I should throttle you for it."

"Oh yeah?" Trunks' mouth curled down into a half-smile. "Those sure are big words from a little guy like you. I won't let you fool me again like the last time."

"Fool you? How pathetic you sound. You challenged me the last time, from what I recall. As your father, I do not know whether to be disappointed or ashamed."

The twins felt like they were watching a tennis match as father and son traded insults. Before they knew it, Vegeta and Trunks had dashed like raging bulls toward each other, locking hands, with their legs slamming in resistance. Vegeta cackled like a madman as he tossed his son behind him, circling around with a blow to the chest. Trunks hurled backward, stopping in midair and clenching his fists. He let out an ear-splitting roar, shaking the ground, until a golden halo surrounded him. His eyes had turned blue and lavender hair spiked golden yellow. Vegeta, who remained in his base physical form, seemed particularly irritated by the display.

"Did you really need to become a Super Saiyan to fight me, son? Very well. If you insist! _AHHHAHHHAHAH_!"

The explosion around the prince's body echoed louder as he matched his son's transformation. His body shot up into the air, while his arms pushed straight in front. Fireballs shot from his hands, hitting the ground in a perfect ring around Trunks' body.

Satisfied with himself, Vegeta crossed his arms. " _Hn_. Not bad for a 'little guy' like me. Would you not agree?"

"I have had _enough_ of you!" Trunks reared back, formed a giant energy sphere in his hands, and set it free. "Galick gun!"

Vegeta returned the blast with his own blistering ray. The intensity of their firepower increased with each step they took. Their nearby audience wondered which man would tire first.

Then they stopped.

Squealing with excitement, the twins tripped over themselves as they ran through dirt clouds. Vegeta and Trunks laughed warmly as they dusted off and returned to their normal physical forms.

"My, my." Vegeta handed Trunks a towel and bottle of water. "You still have it in you, boy - and you have some _nerve_ using my fight technique on me. Why have you kept your training secret?"

"I haven't." Trunks lightly touched the Saiyan crest on his arm, matching his father's brand. "There are some lessons one never forgets, Vegeta."

"Indeed, including being a smart ass," his father replied. "Nevertheless, I suppose that fighting show of yours was a suitable birthday gift, although it could be put to better use."

"Please don't go there, father. Besides, you began celebrating birthdays four years ago. I'm not used to picking gifts yet."

Tasmin flew into her grandfather's arms. "No! Don't finish now, please!"

"You guys looked so awesome!" Tery exclaimed. "Dad, why did you lie to us? You're just as strong!"

Vegeta was pleased with their enthusiasm, of course, but pride would take a back seat to his teaching duties. His impish smile vanished, transforming his appearance into one of sternness and reserve. He placed Tasmin on the ground.

"Both of you settle down. Your father and I kept our promise to fight together. Now what do you have to say?"

"Thank you, elder!'

"Thank you, dad!"

"Very good," Trunks said, dropping the sound of his voice. "Now give your grandfather his birthday gift, kids."

Tery and Tasmin suddenly powered up and kicked the prince of all Saiyans dead in his chest, throwing him several yards backward into a nearby cliff. The collision snapped a tree sitting on top like a twig.

" _Holy shit_!" Vegeta managed to free himself from the tiny pile of rubble around him, but not before cursing a blue streak inside of his head that would've burned a hole in the ground, had he spoken it.

"Happy birthday, elder!" the twins shouted.

"Yes! Touchdown! Oh yeah, buddy. _I got you good_!" Trunks laughed until he cried. The shock on his father's face made the conquest sweeter. He jogged around the field pumping his fists in the air.

"They could have killed me with that hit, Trunks!" Vegeta snarled. "This - this - is how you tell me they ascended to Super Saiyan?!"

Still chuckling, Trunks picked up the kids between his shoulders and flew over. "Oh please, father. You know damn well that your body and mind were prepared to absorb the shock."

"Are you angry with all of us?" Tasmin said.

"Yeah," Tery said. "Dad told us you would be excited, elder."

Vegeta grabbed their shirts from behind. "I am ready to murder you all, actually, but that was a _marvelous_ gift for my birthday. I am proud of you. You surprised me. I should have paid closer attention to my sensory detection abilities. Trunks taught a wise lesson today. Now tell me what it is."

"Never underestimate your opponent," the children said.

"And what else?" Trunks said.

"Especially not a Super Saiyan!" Tasmin said.

"Correct," Vegeta said, removing his white fighting gloves. "We should prepare for dinner now."

Never one to forget a question, Tasmin wanted to know why Vegeta and Trunks picked the site. "Elder, what is this place anyway?"

Vegeta bent down on his knees in front of her, placing his hand on her head. "Your father is a generous man, Tasmin. He said he was proud to be my son in this place many years ago, at a time when I needed to hear it. Do not ever take him for granted, because I do not."

The sincerity and emotion behind Vegeta's response surprised the children. Trunks wasn't, though. He appreciated how strong their relationship had become.

"It's time to leave now, kids," he said. "We all need to bathe."

Tery grabbed Trunks' arm. "Dad, wait!"

"Yes, son? Make it fast."

"Can you try to fight elder Vegeta with the power level he had last night after Aunt Bulla's wedding?"

Tasmin's eyes lit up with delight. "Yeah, dad! Please?"

Vegeta's bloodthirsty, vengeful grin sent a chill down Trunks' spine. One day his father would surely pay him back in spades for the children's little "birthday present." He quickly covered the twins' mouths to stop their chattering.

"Be quiet and listen to your grandfather. Let's go eat."

* * *

Bulma was reviewing machine designs in her home office when Vegeta returned before dusk. He lingered by the door, watching her work. She had her doctorate in engineering by her early twenties, when they first met. Years later she learned more about biotechnology, applying it to her work. Their lives defined the meaning of "power couple," but they also treasured their family. They may have worked nonstop, but it was rare for their children not to be around them in some way.

With his wife's blessing, Vegeta took Trunks and Bulla on longer trips to see how and with whom he trained. Over time, those activities repaired his relationship with his son, especially. When the kids weren't with him, Bulma kept them busy in her labs - when they weren't with grandparents and friends, or in school.

Miraculously, the couple still made time for each other. All of this was a far cry from the start of their once-tumultuous relationship. Vegeta tried not to dwell on those thoughts long either.

"I see you are feeling better."

Bulma removed her reading glasses. "Don't you ever knock? I wondered how long you planned to stand by the door."

"We have been together for almost thirty years," Vegeta replied. "It is rather late in our relationship to expect perfect politeness from me, although I do retain some memories from my royal upbringing."

Bulma held up her arm. "You can stop right there. Please, spare me the walk down memory lane. Happy birthday, by the way. I almost forgot."

"My company bores you, it appears." Vegeta kissed her forehead. "I guess that means our family will dine without you tonight."

"That depends on what you prepared." Bulma tapped her crutch on the floor and stood. "Sonali said you had something in mind."

Vegeta's arm extended from the other side to escort her. "The weather is cooler this evening, so I told everyone to wear warmer clothes. Sonali laid some out for you."

"We're eating outside again?"

"Yes, but at a different place. The dining area is sheltered under a tent. The food will be ready for us soon."

Bulma stopped walking to look at him. "Do you mind telling me where this location is now? Also, stop asking Sonali to work around here. You're taking advantage of her kindness."

"We are visiting Nightingale this evening - and, for your information, Sonali offered to help."

Bulma wondered what fantastically impractical impulse had possessed her husband this time. She did not want to spend the majority of her retirement keeping him out of trouble. He was like a dog with a bone after making a decision. Anyone who tried to wrestle said bone away from him risked being mauled.

"Nightingale? Where we married? Why there, Vegeta?"

Vegeta stood behind her as they entered their bedroom. "We have not finished telling our story to the twins."

Bulma saw him glance briefly at her hover chair. Neither of them wanted her to overuse the machine - better to walk as much as possible - but Vegeta had been more outspoken about when and how he expected her to use it.

"Do these dinner activities mean you won't demand that I leave the premises when you think I'm tired?"

Vegeta bent down to unlock Bulma's leg brace while she inspected the clothing Sonali chose. She could not have asked for a better daughter-in-law. Anyone who could charm Trunks and his father, of all people, deserved high praise. No one in their home needed to overwork themselves for Bulma, really; robots were everywhere to help. The family attended to her out of love and appreciation.

Vegeta went above and beyond, but it saddened her to know that he continued blaming himself for her condition.

"Bulma, I cannot promise that to you- not until you manage your pain better - but for the way I acted yesterday I am… I am…"

"Save it, Saiyan," Bulma replied, brushing her hand through his hair. "Watching you try to apologize is like waiting for our cat to cough up hairballs. That said, I have no desire to attend tonight if you plan to order me around again."

"Tch." Vegeta lifted her right arm to remove her shirt. "Now you are being unreasonable. For all of your protests before Bulla's wedding yesterday, you were exhausted and in pain by the end. Have you considered how I feel? I have to watch this, day after day, and yet I cannot fix what happened to you."

Bulma yanked her arm away from him. "Vegeta! _Stop this._ You must accept that I have a disability. Maybe I quit training as hard because I'm tired of you treating me _like a defective work project_. Yeah, I told our friends and children that I'm ready for the next challenge, but what does that mean? Apparently my recovery has become more about your pride rather than figuring out how we can accept and enjoy each other as we are now. I may speak and walk slower, _but I am still your wife,_ I am in my right mind, and I am still your lover."

Vegeta sat down, placing his arm around Bulma's shoulder. Her head rested on his chest.

"I know, Bulma, which is why I want us to spend more time together, especially now that you are retiring. At this point in my life I do not worry about my powers. Kakarot and I have been given gifts that will keep us as strong we need to be until our lives end naturally. Maybe you did not hear me correctly yesterday, but right now I do need you. I do not want you to feel like my behavior is destroying who you are, though. I will do better."

After leaning over for a quick kiss, Bulma activated her hover chair.


	7. Set Apart

**I have seen debates about whether kid Trunks in adulthood would be just as humble as future Trunks. The latter version of the character is my favorite, of course. However, what I like about both is their reverence for their father. What "Super" has done correctly is bringing the story full circle between the two Trunks. The best part is watching Vegeta do right by the older version of the son he had once rejected. (He owed that kid big time!) In this story, I see Trunks representing the best qualities of both young and old.**

* * *

Bulma and Vegeta had not visited Nightingale since they married, and neither had Trunks. The place seemed like it had been frozen in time with its striking beauty and serenity. The garden clearing where the couple took their vows was set atop a hill, overlooking a bay, within plain view of an active volcano. Monks living in the villages below cared for the greenery, keeping it manicured and populated with plants and trees that blended into a scenic, stately landscape. As they did before, they left offerings of food and money for the groundskeepers to show appreciation.

Vegeta stressed to his daughter-in-law that he wanted a simple arrangement for their tent and a dinner that wasn't lavish, but instead was designed to satisfy appetites and please the senses. Flickering gas lamps increased the mystique of the location.

Once they arrived, Bulma chose to walk on the uneven paved pathway toward the tent, which wasn't that far away but far enough. Vegeta said nothing, leaving her alone with Sonali, nor did he look back as he and Trunks entered the tent.

"Thank you for helping arrange our gathering so quickly, dear," Bulma said. "I told Vegeta to stop working you to death, now that you're at the end of your vacation with us."

"I can't say I worked too hard, Dr. Brief," Sonali replied. "Your husband is quite efficient with getting what he wants. I used contacts from the wedding to help. So I take it Vegeta asked you about letting me run Capsule too?"

Bulma nodded. "Will you help me over to that tree, dear? I want to smell the cherry blossoms. And yes, and I fully support you taking my place. There are many lessons I can share with you."

"You're not bothered that Vegeta didn't suggest Trunks?"

"Oh, these flowers smell wonderful." Bulma handed Sonali her crutch to lean against the tree. "Come closer so you can smell them. To answer your question, Trunks would've told us long ago had he wanted the job. He's happy being a biologist. He's helped so many, even mortals who live differently from us. His father and I respect that, and we are very proud of him."

"Well then, I accept." Sonali kissed her. "Thank you so much. Now tell me, why do you think dad wanted to come here?"

The women faced the tent. Bulma thought about her earlier conversation with Vegeta.

"Sonali, my husband is… struggling with his mortality, and mine, in a different way now. I am his first and only love. He generally remembers being cared for as a boy, but after that his approach to life became a house of cards. Frankly, he fell in love with me first, not the other way around, and it was hell dealing later with his uncertainty about our relationship. It's an understatement to say he had a lot of baggage."

"Let's continue walking," Sonali said, helping her move from tree back onto the trail. Bulma's crutch pattered rhythmically on the pathway.

"Vegeta has rebuilt a kingdom of sorts within our family, and even among Goku's, after years of rejecting the good in life in favor of the bad," Bulma continued. "It won't break him if I die first, but he may want to follow me in death sooner rather than later. I don't want that. I want his knowledge shared widely for as long as possible, particularly with our grandchildren. That should be his mission, regardless of whether he continues fighting - or if I pass on."

Sonali smiled. "For future knowledge, are you going to drop dead soon, Bulma?"

Bulma's eyes danced with her laughter. "I'll let you know as soon as I do, you ungrateful brat. Now give me another hug. I'm so glad you are in the family. I'm so glad you're here."

Vegeta seated himself at the head of the table while his son poured wine. He glanced at the opening of the tent.

"They're almost here," Trunks said.

"Oh, I know, son. They are all enjoying themselves. It is hard not to. The place is beautiful."

The twins quietly scurried behind Bulla and Todd, and Vegeta's brother Tarble and his wife Gure, to take their places. No one, not even Vegeta, had to warn them about acting up at the table. The children sensed the importance of the occasion - much different from their aunt's wedding - and were curious to know more.

Everyone stood when Bulma and Sonali entered. Both Vegeta and Trunks stepped forward to escort their wives. The simplicity of the table setting complemented the surroundings and the food. The family enjoyed them immensely.

Vegeta was silent throughout most of the meal while the rest of the family traded jokes and gossiped. They were a fine, handsome bunch altogether, he thought - even his mealy-mouthed son-in-law. Tasmin was the only one who seemed disturbed by his stillness. She walked over and whispered in his ear. The family looked at them briefly before continuing their conversations. They thought the two looked cute together.

"What is it?" Vegeta said.

"Will you come with me, elder?"

"Tasmin, it is inappropriate to leave the table now. Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"I am," she said, "but it doesn't seem like you are."

Vegeta peered into her eyes. This child was worried about him. Worried about him? He was supposed to protect her, and her brother, making them feel safe. He wrapped his finger around Tasmin's thumb beneath the table and squeezed it. She giggled.

"I am fine, my darling, and that is the truth," he whispered back. "Now go and finish dessert before I eat it myself."

Tasmin, beaming that her grandfather had called her "darling," returned to her seat next to Tery, who was half-asleep. Trunks filled the adults' wine glasses once more before they all raised them for a toast. He proceeded to walk around the table.

"My first toast is for all of us," he said with a smile, "because we got through the week without killing each other." Everyone clapped and cheered except for Vegeta, who responded with his usual smirk.

"My second toast is for the wives and husbands." Trunks' eyes turned toward Sonali. "Our love is strong and deep. May we all continue listening and guiding each other as partners and as friends."

"My third toast is for the children, including future ones," he said, touching Tery and Tasmin's heads. "We are imperfect beings, but we will do our best to guard and guide you in the right direction. May the gods be gracious and shine light on you as they have with us."

"My final toast is for Vegeta and Bulma." Sonali grasped Trunks' hand as he held back tears and raised his glass. "This is for our parents. Take comfort knowing that we will carry your legacy with pride and wisdom until the end of our days. Thank you. Cheers."

"Cheers!"

The prince stood and shook his son's hand while everyone else wiped away tears. Even the two helpers in the room were crying. Vegeta removed his hip-length grey jacket, exposing the shirt underneath and his Saiyan crest.

"Leave us now," he told the helpers. "The meal and settings were well-received, and our family is appreciative."

"He means thank you," Bulma said.

"You do not have to translate for me," Vegeta said with a touch of crabbiness in his voice. He moved to stand next to her while everyone switched seats to bring the children closer.

"We are here tonight to honor the fulfillment of prophecy, but not exclusively for our own aims," he said. "Our family has been bestowed with powerful gifts. Never in my life would I have thought this inheritance would be mine, and I am proud of and humbled by you."

"Vegeta chose this place for us to marry because of its beauty," Bulma said, taking his hand to support him. "He doesn't always show emotion as openly, as we all know, but he feels them in some ways more deeply than others. Our relationship didn't begin with what you see now, children. It took a lot of work. You are young, but you'll understand later as your parents grow in their marriage while caring for you."

"I was not a good man for a long time," Vegeta continued. "When I came to Earth, I had lost everything - my home, my sense of meaning, and what I thought was the path to power to control others - and I was incredibly angry. In all truth, even though I remained powerful physically, I had nothing but the clothes on my back when Bulma and I came to know each other."

"Why would you want to control people, elder?" Tasmin said.

"I was raised to think that way, Tasmin, and all my life I dealt with others who wanted to control me, and some almost succeeded. Their poisonous goals, along with my own misdeeds, made me very sick on the inside."

Vegeta stopped and sighed. Trunks locked eyes with him, speaking through their minds so no one else could hear.

 _"You can do this, father. You can do this. Go on."_

Vegeta walked to the front of the room. "I was younger than you are now when I became an orphan. My planet, named after my father and me, had been destroyed. I was well-educated already, even as a young boy, and the remaining Saiyans who tended to me, former members of the royal court, shared lessons and old customs keep our heritage alive within me. Much of these teachings were true, I believe; other parts, perhaps not.

"Our people were born to be warriors, but many of them foolishly allowed their strengths to be used for evil by the person who drafted me into his army against my will - after he destroyed my planet. It was an ugly time, and I was part of that ugliness for years.

"As I aged, I obsessed over achieving what had been considered my birthright, to become Super Saiyan. No one in our culture had done it in 1000 years, not even my father. Before he died, he believed that my strength and intellect would assure it. I was determined to make the ones who hurt me pay for their crimes. I held on to these beliefs because there was nothing else meaningful to define my life, until I met Bulma and became a father.

"Marriages were not discouraged in our society, but in higher classes relatives arranged them, and they were usually focused on power. In other words, love often came last. Also, everyone except the ruling elite was expected to give up one of their children at birth for service. The closet example on Earth would be monks, although they are not forced into service, and their lives are largely noble. Sometimes parents on my planet never saw their children again. There was little questioning of it."

"Tell us about your arm brands," Tery said. "Why did you do it?"

"What we want you to understand is everything that happened to your grandfather almost guaranteed that he would never know love," Bulma said, "but yet it happened against all odds. The Saiyan crest is a reminder from the past of how far he's come, and I share that bond with him willingly. Our spirits became of one when we took our vows."

Vegeta returned to Bulma's side to help her from the table. He held her close while she draped a white shawl she had been wearing around his neck. He returned the gesture by wrapping a red scarf he had been wearing around hers. No one knew what they were doing besides Trunks.

"There were other rituals," Trunks said, looking at his children. "Branding your grandmother was just one part of their wedding. I wanted to help."

By this time Vegeta and Bulma were standing at the front. Trunks walked over to hold his mother up from the back, taking her crutch. Vegeta reached for her right hand and bowed. Neither smiled, but they kept their eyes on each other. Vegeta began to circle around her slowly as they began to recite their vows.

"Behold, you are set apart as my husband."

"Behold, you are set apart as my wife."

"There will be no other."

"There will be no other."

"Weakness is a state of mind."

"Together, we should always be prepared to fight."

"For within this circle, there is no enemy we cannot face."

"Because we are now joined as one."


	8. Returning Home

Trunks found his father sitting in the gazebo behind the estate. The previous night had been long and emotional for the entire family, so he wasn't surprised that Vegeta spent half the morning taking it easy. It was around noon, and the prince's sandal-clad feet were perched on an ottoman, while he reclined in a patio chair with the ugliest pattern that Trunks had ever seen. For some reason the young man found it humorous observing the contrast of his father sitting there - comfortably - examining his prized cigars.

Besides having a glass of bourbon occasionally, smoking stogies was a vice that Vegeta allowed no one to question. He didn't care about vanity or training during these relaxing moments, and he was fine with that. Bulma, who once smoked cigarettes infrequently, gave him grief about what she said was a double-standard. He reminded her of his "rules" that cigars would be smoked during special occasions. Other than that, he'd have one maybe once or twice a month.

"What do you want, boy? Do not expect me to offer you one of these."

"Glad you're still in a good mood from last night." Trunks sat down across from him. "Isn't it a bit early to be smoking those?"

Vegeta paused for what seemed like an eternity until he poured two glasses of water, handing one to Trunks. The young man suddenly realized his father had been waiting for him.

"Trunks, you are not here to discuss my well-deserved leisure time, so get to the point."

Trunks wiped the moisture from the glass and sipped. "Well, yes, I do have something to discuss. I want to train with you and the other fighters again, maybe compete too."

Vegeta grunted. "And why would you want that?"

If Trunks didn't know him so well, he would've thought the prince was being dismissive. He was just being Vegeta.

"Father, I know you like to give me a hard time, but I'm serious. I thought you would be pleased."

Not looking up, Vegeta pulled out a single-blade cutter to chop the tip of his cigar. "You should not be concerned with pleasing me, especially not at your age. Would it help your self-esteem if I allowed you to call me 'daddy' now?"

This double-barreled taunt finally pissed Trunks off. The response was downright mean, he felt, or maybe he was being too sensitive?

"Was that comment really necessary?" He set the glass down. "I don't understand. You even suggested that I return to fighting after our battle in front of the kids."

Vegeta nodded, opening his mahogany humidor. "I figured you would ask, and I admit that my suggestion yesterday was a test. As I recall you said, 'Please don't go there, father.'"

Trunks chose a cigar from the box and sniffed it. The fragrance reminded him of dark chocolate and cloves. Vegeta handed over the cutter. Trunks poured more water into his father's glass. During or after arguments, no matter how furious, the men would habitually exchange small courtesies. Meeting another person's basic needs while angry requires restraint and humility. These actions reminded everyone in the family that no problem should ever come between them. Even when Vegeta complained, he never hesitated to make the effort.

"This is a really nice cigar," Trunks said, twirling it in his hand. "I didn't know you liked the spicy ones. Now humor me by explaining how you knew I would ask about training."

Vegeta placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Son, you haven't challenged me to fight this much in years. You are training the twins while still working your job and doing your own training. Someone has helped with both, yes?"

"It's not like you really gave me a choice about fighting this week, _dad_ \- and you're right on that last question."

"Now doesn't that feel good to call me 'daddy'?" Vegeta grinned with the cigar between his teeth, looking like a demon. "I am glad you finally grew a pair."

Trunks shook his head. "You are extremely close to ruining the good feelings from our dinner last night, _grandpa_."

Vegeta cut his eyes at him. "You know what I hear, Trunks? Indecision. Just listen to yourself. 'Maybe I can compete.' 'I thought you would be pleased.' 'It's not like you really gave me a choice about fighting.' Son, you are far too young to have a midlife crisis."

"Ending that with a joke was unnecessary, Vegeta. You're saying I would waste your time, basically. Thanks a lot."

 _Thanks a lot._ As a parent, Vegeta recalled those words with fondness. Trunks would always be his little boy in some ways.

"No, son, you are wrong," he said quietly. "I would be honored, but I am not so selfish to expect you to upend your life. You have more than yourself to consider with these decisions. I believe your desire is short-lived. Your talents serve others in ways I cannot, just like your mother. I admire them greatly."

Trunks looked away from him. "Since you respect me so much, give me the courtesy of trusting that I know my own mind. You are doing the same thing with me now that mom and Bulla complain about. We're adults and have been for a while."

"I have half of my cigar that I want to finish." Vegeta returned his feet to the ottoman and leaned back. "Since you extended your vacation here, take time to consider what I just said. You are welcome to finish your cigar - quietly - or do something intelligent such as spending time with Sonali after she returns. She is a good woman, and you draw strength from her. I can take the twins off your hands for the rest of the day."

"Fine," Trunks said, wiping perspiration from his forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down. "I suppose that's the best choice. My little monsters should be done eating lunch."

Vegeta frowned. "Are you all right? You are sweating. It is cool out here today."

"I probably shouldn't be smoking so early," Trunks extinguished his cigar. "I ran at normal speed this morning. Between the late night and the kids, I think I just need more sleep. By the way, you don't have to monitor our energy levels constantly, either."

Vegeta sighed. "It is hard not to after what happened to your mother, and we are all here together. Do not argue with me about it. Now leave."

Trunks hated admitting that his father raised valid concerns during their discussion. He also felt out of sorts. The running should have refreshed him, but instead he was dog-tired. It felt good to lie down, even though he would have preferred alone-time with his wife. Sonali and Bulma had gone shopping, so that wasn't an option for a few hours.

###

Sonali carried a stack of shopping bags into the house while Bulma programmed the bots to help them start a meal. The young woman was somewhat surprised that Trunks hadn't returned a video call from her earlier. The message went straight to voice mail. His watch was probably on vibrate, which mildly irritated her.

"Hey Bulma, have you spoken with Vegeta yet?"

"Yeah." Bulla moved her hover chair in front of Sonali. "He left a message about taking the twins somewhere. They should walk in soon. Have you heard from Trunks yet?"

"No, but his car is here. I'm going to change clothes now. Do you need anything before I leave?"

"No, honey. I'm fine."

Sonali found her husband asleep in their room. The curtains had been drawn closed halfway, blocking out enough sunlight to keep the room dim. At first she considered leaving him alone, but he rarely slept late into the afternoon, even when tired.

She sat on the side of the bed. "Trunks, wake up for me." It took her longer to rouse him than she expected. "Hey, come on and wake up. We're preparing for dinner."

He rolled over and rubbed his temples. "I'm fine, babe. Just have a bad headache and my throat is a little sore. Just let me sleep. Not hungry."

"You're not hungry?" Sonali flipped the light on by his bedside. "You are not fine. Let me look at you." She felt his head. "Oh my god, you are burning up. You're sick."

By this time Vegeta had returned with the twins, and he was eager for someone else to distract them now. Luckily the youngsters' minds were focused on the hearty meal coming up, so they left to change clothes. Vegeta's appetite, however, wasn't high. He had felt uneasy ever since Trunks left. He knew his son was sleeping, and it was obvious that he was still asleep. All energy levels drop when people rest, so he let the issue go. He was trying to do what his family wanted.

"Hey gorgeous," Bulma said from the kitchen. "Come give me a kiss. I have looked forward to it all day."

Vegeta scratched the back of his head. "No, you have not, woman. You want something."

"Well, kind of," she replied. "We need more cat litter and chewy snacks for Peaches."

Vegeta helped Bulma off the hover chair, tugging playfully on her hair until they kissed. Re-enacting their wedding ceremony at dinner the night before had been moving for them both.

"Bulma, your overweight cat is borderline diabetic, and why are you against letting her shit outdoors? You are _buying_ expensive dirt for her to crap on inside of our home. It is absurd. Peaches needs more exercise anyway."

Bulma took her crutch from him and smiled. "Will you just do this one thing for me, _grandpa_?"

"Oh great." Vegeta placed his hands on the back of his head. "Not you too - and that smile will not work on me. I am going to find Sonali and Trunks."

"Find them for what, Vegeta? Give them some time alone. It's been all of 20 minutes since we arrived. Besides, you still have a job to do."

"You are one of the richest people in the world - the human equivalent of royalty. In fact, you are royalty as my wife too. Last time I checked, we have options for package delivery. Why are you trying to make me leave?"

Bulma tapped her fingers on the kitchen table impatiently. "Okay, grumpy, here's my question. Why must everything be an argument with you?"

" _Hn_." Vegeta leaned on the refrigerator. "Is that a rhetorical question? I cannot believe you just asked me that. Whatever you are planning must wait. I will not be long. I promise."

Sonali bumped into him at the kitchen entrance. She was tying her long black hair into knots. She once told her mother-in-law she did it to calm herself when upset. Bulma looked over at Vegeta, who knew something was wrong but wisely held back from reacting too quickly _._

"Is there a problem, dear?" Bulma said.

Sonali held up her hands. "Don't worry, you two."

"Wrong answer," Vegeta said.

"Trunks isn't feeling well, that's all. I came to see about calling a doctor over here. He's running a fever."

"I knew something was off when I saw him earlier today," Vegeta said. "He has slept through the afternoon."

Bulma stood and headed to the door. Vegeta stepped in front her.

"Where are you going, Bulma?"

Bulma wanted to punch him for blocking her. "Where the hell do you think I'm going? All of us have been exposed to whatever illness Trunks has, which you know, so there's no harm in checking on him. _Now get out of my way._ "

Sonali touched her shoulder. "Bulma, it's okay."

"No, it's not, and stop protecting my husband. He made a promise to me, and he _will_ keep his word. Use the touch-screen on the wall to contact our doctor."

"You could at least use your chair to get around for now," Vegeta said, moving from her path.

Bulma scowled because she knew Vegeta was correct, and she had made a promise to him too. "Fine. You are right. I am tired, and I can use the chair again. Happy now?"

"I know Trunks will be in good hands with you." Vegeta waved at her with a smirk on his face. "Bye!"

Vegeta had managed to get the twins squared away with their meal early while Sonali and Bulma attended to Trunks. Naturally, the children asked him why they were the only ones at dinner, and he felt uncomfortable answering them. That was a big change from years past, when he was routinely blunt in these situations. Dogs eat meat. Rain is wet. Kakarot is an idiot. No big deal.

"Children, your parents and grandmother are busy now. They probably will not eat until much later."

"Busy doing what?" Tery said.

"Here is what I want to hear from you both right now: 'We will wait to find out because we are eating dinner, and we know you are done entertaining us today.' Does that sound good to you?"

The children rolled their eyes. "Yes, elder."

"I taught you to eye-roll better than that," Vegeta said, faking anger with them. He pointed his fork and squinted. "Do not disappoint me again."

He was dozing in the kitchen when Bulma and Sonali returned. They both thought it was kind of him to make tea, figuring that they probably wouldn't eat much. He let out a small breath and yawned after Bulma touched his arm.

"How is our son doing?" He rubbed his eyes. "What do you need?"

"Trunks will be in bed for at least a week," Bulma replied. "He has the flu."

"You have to be kidding me." Vegeta stretched his arms over his head. "The flu? He has never had that before. Other brats he knew as a boy got sick from it. Our kids caught other wretched human diseases from their playground cesspool, but not many. Same for you, Sonali, right?"

"Oh god, please don't remind me," Bulma groaned. "I always caught their illnesses while Vegeta stayed healthy as horse, although I do recall one or two times that he did…"

Vegeta cleared his throat and gave Bulma a dirty look. "Sonali, did you have something to say? My wife is being rude."

"Yeah, well, it is definitely the flu," she replied. "Perhaps the virus mutated - which happens often - allowing it to infect him. In any case, he feels pretty bad. What I'm worried about is the rest of us getting it. There are some things we can do now. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. We need to see if other people who attended the wedding have it."

Vegeta handed her a cup of tea. "What about the twins?"

"They had flu shots. Bulma and I have too... and so did Trunks. What about you?"

Vegeta waved her off. "No. Never have. Never will."

"I paged our daughter," Bulma said. "She and Todd are fine for now."

"Oh, that's great," Sonali said. "I'm taking some of this tea to Trunks. Thanks for making it. Have you told the twins yet?"

"I wanted to hear from you first," Vegeta said. "You did not send for me, and I also sensed that Trunks is resting comfortably."

"I think I want a small plate of food now," Bulma said.

"Already prepared." Vegeta looked over at Sonali. "I have one for you too."

"I don't want anything now, thanks. I had too much junk food when Bulma and I were out shopping."

Vegeta walked out of the kitchen door. "I will tell the twins now that everything is settled. We are going to bed early, even if they refuse."

The women laughed.


	9. Recovery

**Thank you for the comments! I look forward to more. When I wrote these last two chapters, I had been thinking more about fear of the unknown and how these characters deal with it. It's messy. It's always messy, but it does force one to think.**

* * *

It was early, and Vegeta was dressed in a two-piece white garment to exercise at the seaside cliff where he and Trunks met before. He needed to restore mental balance. Before leaving he kissed Bulma once on her head, as usual, and observed the pill bottles on her nightstand. His feelings were conflicted, and he berated himself. He didn't want his wife in pain. He also felt like she had given up on getting better. That hurt him more than Bulma realized. Even after their discussions, he struggled with accepting her wishes. Worrying about possible physical decline and giving her space would disturb him until could pull himself together. However, ever since they talked, she had been calmer and more energized. That was a good start.

He found Sonali in the kitchen making chicken broth, bread, and coffee from scratch. She moved slowly, and he wondered why she was working so hard when the bots could have.

"I know you are concerned about my son, but you should probably get more sleep," he said disapprovingly. "It is 5 a.m. I am normally awake at this hour."

Sonali pushed her hair back and yawned. "Look, I know you will always be a commander at heart, but you need sleep just as much as I do. You looked in on Trunks a few times after he started coughing. He was too exhausted to notice, but I heard you walking around outside."

"I know what I need," Vegeta said with irritation. "I know… what I need. Is the bed in the connected room comfortable enough?"

"Yes, it is." She handed him a cup of coffee. "It's been a couple days. It's probably all right to see him now."

"Bulma says this flu strain is affecting healthy young adults this time, more than children or older people, and making them sicker. I am not concerned about myself, and my wife would not leave without being dragged away. We are keeping the twins busy. The doctor was confident when she was here that the antiviral booster shots they and Bulma received would be enough."

"And I believe seeing Trunks might cheer him up," Sonali replied. "I think he's embarrassed that he got sick, especially because…"

She stopped speaking after a wave of gloominess spilled across Vegeta's face. She had said too much.

"It is all right," he said. "Finish your sentence. My son is embarrassed that he got sick like this in front of me. Maybe he feels it makes him look weak, which is ridiculous because…"

"That did not come out right, Vegeta. I'm sorry."

"I cannot fault you for being truthful. Besides, I am sure he is uninterested in seeing me anyway."

"Why?" Sonali already knew the answer, naturally. She decided to push him. "Because of what you said to him about training?"

"He told you."

"Let's just say he tells me a lot since, you know, I am his wife." She poured more coffee for him. "You son is hurt because of how you expressed your concerns, not because you expressed them. I'm just plain angry with you. You weren't 'just being Vegeta.' You went too far this time, which tells me something else is bothering you."

"Sonali, I meant everything I said to our family at Nightingale. I am also tired of you all treating like I am the most demanding person among us. True, I am a giant pain in the ass, but I am not carrying that other burden anymore."

This conversation had become tiring. He adored his daughter-in-law, but he desperately wanted to be left alone too. He needed to clear his mind.

"Look, I do my best. And let me be clear, Trunks would not be the person you love if I had tried to comfort him every time someone hurt him, including me. If he is not sure by now that I would destroy a universe to protect him - to protect you all - then I cannot help him. I took his toast seriously. I thought he did the same when I spoke, because I meant every word."

Sonali put her hands on her hips. "Do better."

Vegeta felt his neck muscles tighten. He didn't invite this battle, but now she had earned it. "What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean," she said curtly. "Doing your best isn't good enough. _Do better._ "

After taking a long breath to collect his thoughts, Vegeta moved in closer. "You know what? I have had _enough_ of your self-righteous, holier-than-thou, unsolicited advice! Apparently you did not listen to your husband closely the other night. Despite your wisdom, _you are imperfect too_. I like how that sounds, so I will repeat myself. _You are flawed just like the rest of us_!"

Stunned, Sonali stepped back. Vegeta shut his eyes and ran his palm through his hair. Then he looked up again.

"Here is my advice: Be more selective about when and how you provoke others. I learned the hard way after many brutal and humiliating beatings. Afterward my life changed dramatically, and that is what I want to teach my grandchildren. If you are not careful, as much as you love the people around you, your arrogance could make things harder than they should be. I continue to struggle with this flaw, which I also see in you."

Sonali shrunk down and covered her mouth. Shaking his head, Vegeta embraced her until she could speak again.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "How am I imperfect again?"

Vegeta placed his hands on her shoulders. "Our family has cried enough these past two weeks. It is officially disgusting. You would think someone had died, and you all will pay for spoiling my image. Now then, I am ready to hear the rest of your scolding."

"I feel like my husband is having a pity party - and you too because you hurt him. You're both entitled to your feelings, but you aren't allowed to brood over why your talk struck a nerve. The emotion behind it must be addressed directly, because your reactions surprised you. You two have worked hard to be as close as you are."

Vegeta finished his coffee and faced the door. "Nothing will come between us - believe me. I will see him after I train. This was good, by the way. I do prefer French-pressed coffee."

"Snorting at him, Sonali bowed like a burdened handmaiden. "Nothing but the best for royalty."

"You are making fun of me."

"Yes, I am."

" _Hn._ "

After he left, Sonali decided to make breakfast-in-bed for Bulma, too, after tending to Trunks. The twins would come along soon enough to devour the rest. Taking Vegeta's sound advice, this time she would use the bots to help with other tasks. When she picked up the coffee press it seemed like her reaction time suddenly went into slow-motion. The pot crashed to the floor as she stumbled. A headache hit her like a ton of bricks. Then she started shivering.

 _Damn it. I really don't need this right now. I guess my in-laws are on their own with the twins._

Breathing heavily, she staggered into a chair to lay her head on the table. She took a chance that her father-in-law would still be around and focused.

"Vegeta!"

He was outside already when he heard the pot smash from the kitchen window, followed by Sonali's call for him. He hid all signs of panic after entering in case the twins appeared, but their rooms were in another wing of the house where they wouldn't hear the noise.

"Help me to my room. I'm sick. I have it. I hope I didn't wake up Bulma."

This flu attack came on much worse than Trunks' did, Vegeta thought, perhaps because she was fully human. She seemed just fine all of twenty minutes before.

He picked her up in his arms. "That is the least of your worries. You must stay down when I get you there, okay?"

Sonali smiled weakly. "Trust me, I don't want to move. Are you sure your wife won't be jealous that you're carrying me?"

"No, you silly woman," Bulma said from the door. She was on her hover chair. "I heard the commotion. You got her, Saiyan? I'll get the doctor here."

"Yup," Vegeta said. "Now be quiet, daughter. You and my wife make life difficult enough as it is."

He didn't want to consider how Trunks would react if something bad happened to Sonali. His son practically worshipped the ground she walked upon, and for good reason. She was the best thing that ever happened to him.

###

Later, Vegeta entered Trunks' room with the food and medicine Sonali prepared. His son was coughing and looking horrid. Vegeta was surprised at how quickly the illness felled him. Trunks and Sonali were pictures of health just days before. Bulma tried to explain what happened scientifically, but all the prince cared about then was their recovery.

Bleary-eyed, Trunks waved his hand over a sensor to increase the lighting in the room. "Let me guess, father. You came to kick me while I'm down, or maybe you feel guilty about kicking me before I got sick."

"I am here to bring food and tell you Sonali is ill."

Trunks pulled off his comforter and sat on the bedside. "Is she still next door?"

"Yes." Vegeta held up his hand. "She is asleep, and you are in no condition to do much for her, so stay there. Her fever is down. Your mother and I can care for you both now, but we may bring in an assistant since you both may need more time to recover than others would. Your aunts are around too. Bulma asked me to check your temperature, so since I am here would you prefer oral _or the other way_?"

Trunks sluggishly moved back into bed. "You are _such_ an asshole. Oral is the only option that won't get you punched. Anything else?"

"Do not expect me to grovel, Trunks. I was harsh, and I apologize for that. However, my opinion has not changed. If training meant that much you would have argued me down. You have done it before with other subjects. Perhaps feeling unwell made expressing yourself more difficult."

"Father, I did not come to argue. Of course I wanted you to be pleased, but I don't need refresher lessons from you about my pride. I'm clear on where I stand there, and I also understand your concerns."

Trunks grabbed a handful of tissues to muffle his coughing. He waved at his father to get a glass of water. Vegeta frowned and checked his temperature.

"Enough talking," he said, placing his hand Trunks' head. "Eat a little and rest. Coughing up your lungs does not help with training. One of us will tell you when Sonali is awake, okay?"

They gave each other a thumbs-up.

That night, Vegeta lay face-down on the bed with his arm sprawled across Bulma's waist. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"Well, Vegeta, our estate is officially quarantined. I guess these two germ-carriers and their unruly children are staying permanently." She pulled his head up from the pillow. "Did you hear what I said?"

He put his hand over her mouth. "Just stop. If you love me, please say nothing else. I am planning ways to keep the children from losing their minds."

"Oh, it's not that bad." Bulma bit his finger. "You're being dramatic. At least our other child isn't sick."

"Do you not realize the seriousness of this?" He dropped his head on the pillow again and sighed. "It's been three days now, and Trunks and Sonali can barely move from their beds. I know this is temporary, but what if something truly terrible happens to them? Raising our kids was hard enough. I am not sure…"

"You aren't sure if you could raise our grandchildren alone, without me. Yes, honey, I know, and I'm glad you finally said it. Rest assured you can. You have done more work this week than me, and stop acting like there's no extended family around to help."

"We have worked differently, Bulma. Look at it that way. How are you feeling anyway?"

Bulma rubbed her hip. "I am pacing myself. Can't you tell?"

"Yes, I can tell. How is your pain?"

"I hurt, Vegeta. I hurt - sometimes a little, sometimes a lot - but that's fine for now. Perhaps you should continue fretting about our grandchildren's future. Let's revisit my own training once their parents feel better. I want us to be partners in this again, Saiyan, just like we have been during this little crisis. Now I must check on our miserable patients."

"Let me go with you. Take your crutch."


	10. Gods Help Us All

"Dr. Brief! That quack doctor of yours should have demanded that you leave home while your family was sick, considering your past condition. She knows better - and so do you, and so does your husband, the man who worries about everything else besides the most obvious problem! Had you all lost your minds? You aren't youngsters anymore. What about those innocent, precious grandchildren of yours?"

Ella was a loud, burly woman who wore her shoulder-length brown hair in two braids tied in the back. She had once been Bulma's nurse during rehabilitation. Vegeta quietly walked around her to find his whiskey glass and left the kitchen.

"Ella, you see the rest of us are fine," Bulma replied. "You do make some good points, though. The doctor felt assured that…"

"Do not mention that hussy's name near me anymore, Dr. Brief!"

"Yes, Ella."

The frustrated woman stormed out. Her arms swung like baseball bats. "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink," she grumbled. "Super-smart people are terrible caretakers for themselves. Idiot savants, that's what they are."

Whiskey glass in hand, Vegeta strolled back in. He held Bulma's shoulders so she could stifle her laughter - and his own.

"God help us," he said. "And you call me grumpy? Hell, I could use that woman in battle any day."

Giggling, Bulma her wiped eyes. " _Gods help us_. Make that plural, Vegeta. We need more than one god for that woman."

"It is good that she is here now, and I do like that she insists on cooking from scratch. The pressure is off of us. I have to say it still bothers me that Trunks and Sonali were so ill that we brought her in."

"That 'quack doctor' of mine and I would send them to hospital if they weren't improving. However, Ella was right that I probably should have left after Sonali got so sick."

"Actually, it should have been earlier than that, and I should have insisted," Vegeta replied quietly. "I am sorry, Bulma."

"You did what I wanted you to do, honey."

"No, father is right," Trunks said. "We all should have made you leave. I'm sorry, too."

"You're up!" Bulma's eyes brightened. "Wonderful."

"How could I stay down, mom? Ella's voice could wake the dead."

"You are still weak, son." Vegeta pulled out a chair. Trunks held onto the side while he coughed. While appreciative for his father's concern, he also wanted to forget that this ever happened.

"Thanks for the chair. Yeah, I am tired, but I haven't left my bed in almost two weeks except to go to the bathroom. I'm lucky I don't have blood clots in my legs."

"Don't joke like that," Bulma said.

Trunks leaned in close to poke his mother's shoulder. "So you and father are the only people here who can use dark humor?"

"Yes," Vegeta and Bulma said. They weren't smiling.

Trunks' laughter led to another coughing fit. "Sorry about that, guys. This cough may take a while to disappear, Ella says."

"Son, we will begin our training in two days," Vegeta said. Trunks nodded.

"No, Vegeta," Bulma said, resting her hand on his. "You just said he's weak. It's visible. I think it's too early for high-impact work in gravity room."

Vegeta took another sip from his glass. "I said nothing about the gravity room _yet_. Regardless, his lung function has declined. We don't need a doctor to say it. It's only been two weeks. That concerns me, and this illness hit very hard. Sonali I _almost_ understand because she is entirely human, but this? What if Trunks is vulnerable to something else?"

Bulma sighed. "Yes, he might be at risk for another illness, but so are you - more so, actually. You have never been vaccinated for anything, so your body is a playground for mutated viruses or pathogens not identified on Earth yet. I shouldn't have to remind you. You've been lucky, despite your strong and sexy physical condition."

"Whatever." Vegeta pushed his glass aside to flex his biceps. "Have you forgotten about the powerful beings I fought over the years? My body is a temple. Besides, this discussion is not about me."

"A temple of vanity," Bulma said, squeezing his muscles. She cocked her head and winked at him.

Vegeta removed her hand from his arm. " _Hn._ "

"He's right," Trunks said. "You of all people should understand, mom. Recovery time is faster the sooner we begin."

Bulma was about to reply when a sharp pain hit her. She almost wobbled from how bad the sensation felt. She lowered her eyes and smiled, hoping her husband and son wouldn't notice her discomfort. That way she wouldn't cry, at least for then.

"I have… said my piece, boys," she said cheerfully. "Do what you want, because I'm certainly doing what I want. I'll head to the library after we finish. I should look over some blueprints."

"You are in pain." Vegeta held up her chin. "Don't hide it."

"Yeah, mom," Trunks said, rubbing his mother's hand. "That one really hurt this time, didn't it? How can we help?"

Bulma laid her head on Trunks' shoulder. "Artemis, come here." Her hover chair moved from outside of the kitchen. "I'm fine, boys," she said softly. "It's over now."

Trunks felt sorry for his father, who evidently had been drinking more than usual that afternoon. He considered asking Bulla to call him. Vegeta was doing his best to manage his stress over the rest of their family, and hearing his daughter's voice might boost his spirits.

" _Trunks!_ "

Smirking, Vegeta sipped his whiskey as Ella marched back into the kitchen. She carried a basket of towels and massage lotion.

"Yes, Ella?"

"Your lovely wife wants to see you. Be quick about it. Then you must sit with me for massage."

"Thank you, Ella, but I don't think I need the massage."

Irritated, the woman struck the kitchen counter, causing everyone to jump - except for Vegeta, of course.

"That's nonsense, young man! I suspect your slave-driver of a father has exercise plans. You must be prepared for his abuse, although I could do better. Your terrible cough would be gone in a week."

"How about betting on that, Ella?" Vegeta said as he poured himself more whiskey. "If the cough disappears in less than a week with me, then you will bake two pies monthly for a year."

Ella placed her hands on her hips. "This wager sounds appealing, sir, but I probably shouldn't take advantage of you."

Vegeta set his glass down. "Take advantage _how_ , woman?"

"You are obviously approaching drunkenness," Ella replied. "This is not a fair fight. You know better."

Vegeta's arm twitched. Alarmed, Bulma punched him with her crutch. Her eyes narrowed to slits, giving him a "don't you dare" look. Thinking that his mother's warning would stop the insanity, Trunks reached for his father's glass.

"Boy, if you move that another inch I will strap an oxygen mask on you to run today, and then I will happily drag you behind me - on your back."

Vegeta's voice was eerily calm, panicking his son.

"We will discuss this _possible_ bet tomorrow, sir," Ella said curtly. "I have to think about what I want if I win."

" _Tch_." Vegeta cracked his knuckles. "You do that."

Trunks shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His father managed to turn an already difficult discussion with a difficult person into another brawl. He almost regretted leaving his bed.

"Really, Ella, I'll be fine without the massage."

"Trunks, I'm an old woman and my patience grows shorter daily. You have an hour with sweet Sonali, starting now. _Then you sit with me_. I earn your parents' money honorably."

"Yes, Ella."

Vegeta and Bulma snickered like naughty teenagers as the woman stamped out again.

"Oh, I see." Trunks buried his head in his arms. "You two think this is funny."

His parents burst out laughing. "Yes, we do," they said.

Bulma motioned for Vegeta to hand over his glass. "It's time to lay off the alcohol, elder. In fact, go take a nap. The twins may want to see you later, you know?"

"Only because you are asking me nicely, Bulma."

"Are you sure you're okay, father?" Trunks swallowed to push back another coughing fit. Vegeta turned his head toward him.

"I can walk in a straight line, boy. You might not be able to with that cough of yours. Let's start in three days instead."

"No, let's do two," Trunks replied. "I already know what you have in mind."

Vegeta winked at Bulma and left. She blew a raspberry loud enough for him to hear, until he threw a tight ball of newspaper back at her from outside.

"You missed me, old man."

"I heard that!" his voice echoed back.

Trunks touched his mother's shoulder. "Are you still headed for the library?"

"I am, and please don't worry about me. Your father is right that you should focus on yourself. I have my own training plans. Vegeta has someone else in mind and wants to surprise me."

"And you're fine with that?"

"Sure. I get the final choice, Trunks. We have an understanding about what I need from him going forward."

"I hate asking this, but has he been drinking more lately? I'm surprised he had a glass in hand when I came in earlier."

Bulma moved onto her hover chair. "Not until today. I'll talk with him. He would never completely lose himself in booze for any reason - any reason. I would know. He's too disciplined."

" _Trunks!_ Don't make me call for you again. Sonali awaits."

"I'm coming, Ella."

###

Trunks slid into bed with his sleeping wife to hold her. He scolded himself for keeping her waiting too long. Sonali didn't seem to care, opting instead to nuzzle deep into his arms. They were a sorry sight together with their multiple tissue boxes and messy hair. At least they had matching cotton bathrobes and pajamas, courtesy of Bulma.

"Ella says we have an hour together before she makes hamburger out of my muscles," Trunks whispered in her ear. "I would rather have you do the massage. Then I could return the favor and _help_ _to_ _release_ your tension."

"Sorry, I can't help you with that," Sonali said, kissing his shoulder. "I'm still sick, remember?"

"How are you feeling? I thought you'd be up and around again today. I brought tea."

"I'm just ready for us to sleep in the same bed again, Trunks. I have never been this tired before in my life. This is crazy."

"Yeah, I know, but sleeping separately has helped us rest better. Imagine how much of a nightmare this would be if we were at home. I'm glad we're here, and it's good for my parents. They have something else to worry about besides each other."

"They're so cute." Sonali rubbed Trunks' back as he leaned over to cough. "I think you need this tea more than I do. You still sound bad. Let me tell Ella to back off. I know she's the nurse and all, but she can be less overbearing."

Trunks crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows. " _Hn._ I don't need you to handle my business for me, woman."

Sonali almost spit out her tea laughing. "Your imitation of Vegeta has improved. You should work on your arm posture. The next phase is gritting your teeth until you need dentures."

"I heard that!"

Trunks and Sonali looked up and laughed. No one makes fun of the prince and gets away with it.

"Damn it, man." Trunks threw a slipper at the door. "Why are you lurking out there? Shouldn't you be napping or something?"

Vegeta peeked into the room. "This door is open wide enough to fit a small animal inside."

Sonali waved at him to enter. "Come in, dad. You're fine."

Vegeta tossed Trunks' slipper next to the bed. "I know you're tired, daughter, but I want to see you walking more soon. You and my useless, deadbeat son have stayed a month. Expect a bill for rent and childcare expenses soon."

"I appreciate your hospitality, your highness." She blew him a kiss. "Thank you for checking on me."

Vegeta sauntered back to the door. "Stop wasting time and tell her, boy."

Trunks' face turned red as his father exited. "Sorry, baby. He was drinking more than a little this afternoon."

Sonali rose up on her pillows. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. We're going to train together a little, too."

"Bullshit, Trunks. There is no 'a little' with either of you. When do you begin?"

"In two days." Trunks was prepared to take his blows if necessary. Sonali didn't look thrilled.

"Saiyans have remarkable healing abilities," she said. "I'm sure you can stand a good beating just like before. I reserve the right to be concerned, though."

"Vegeta won't be hard on me in the way you think."

"Dad won't be hard on you? Oh please. That's like saying cats make babies with dogs. Do you still have a fever? Let me feel your forehead."

Despite her good humor, Trunks noticed his wife seemed more sluggish than when he first entered the room. He cupped his hands around her cheeks.

"Actually, you're the one who feels warm. Are you feeling worse? I sense you're slightly more off than before. Father may have felt it too. That could be the real reason why he stopped by."

"Trunks, I just said that I'm still worn out, so you and Vegeta can lower your radar antennae. This has been tough on the both of us, remember?"

"Okay it's my turn, Sonali. I got sick. It hasn't happened like this before. It sucks. Now you and father can stop hovering. Get some sleep, baby. I'm going to fake a small relapse so Ella will leave me alone."

"Trunks, you have fifteen minutes left," Ella said from behind the door. Her rapid-fire knocking sounded like a machine gun.

He clutched his wife's hand. "I think Vegeta is paying her more to harass me."


	11. Laughter, Loss, Love

**It just didn't seem right splitting this into two chapters. I tried to do it a couple times. In any case, I hope you enjoy it. Keep the reviews coming, and thank you!**

* * *

Bulma sat next to her sleeping husband to watch him breathe. For someone so strong he seemed thoroughly exhausted. He hadn't eaten dinner that night either, but she decided not to wake him.

She loved him so much. Vegeta almost always knew when she cried at night no matter how silent she tried to be. He would awaken to hold her without saying a word. Sometimes she cried from physical pain. Other times she wept at the thought of becoming an "old lady" in the traditional sense. It got on her nerves. Men were considered distinguished as they aged, while some women became invisible. She tried not to wonder how soon it would happen with him, even though she knew the fear was irrational.

On this night she felt like a hypocrite. She recalled lecturing her husband about "living in the moment" together, yet here she was feeling troubled. Without opening his eyes, Vegeta reached behind him to touch her arm.

"Are you crying?"

"Shhh." Bulma placed her finger over her lips. "Go back to sleep, gorgeous. I'm fine."

"What time is it, Bulma?"

"After nine."

Still groggy, Vegeta rolled over. He wondered how long she had been sitting there. "I slept for six hours?"

"What do you expect, man?" Bulma gave him an annoyed look. "You were borderline drunk at three in the afternoon."

"Oh yeah, I guess I was. Are you angry with me?"

"Sometimes you act like a little boy," she replied. "It can be cute - until it's not cute. Are you hungry?"

Vegeta moved to sit next to her. "Okay then. You are not angry. I will find something to eat later."

"Vegeta, look, don't make what happened today a habit. You know I'm no prude making a good drink and having fun, but you were on the edge today, which tells me that you've been drinking alone. We laughed a lot this afternoon, but you weren't yourself. Trunks was concerned enough to ask me, even though he was embarrassed about it. I dislike lying to our son."

"You chose to lie," Vegeta said, "and he is an adult, but that is less important. I heard your anxieties and this will not be a problem for us anymore. I promise."

Bulma leaned over to kiss him. "I want you and Trunks to leave home to train together at some point. For now, promise me you will start slow with him this week at home - and not your version of slow. Sonali should be on her feet soon, and it would be great if we all went to the beach together."

"You must have read my mind."

"Oh really?" Bulma raised her eyebrow at him. "I doubt that."

"No, I'm serious. Trunks and I will determine his pace. He needs to practice skills that do not require hand-to-hand combat, but right now I am not concerned with _his hands_."

He kissed Bulma again. They hadn't had sex in a while for various reasons. Sometimes she avoided him touching her in certain places. That hurt him a lot. He wanted to make her feel good when she wasn't in pain. Kissing was the one luxury they could indulge in without awkwardness. He loved her neck the most. When he heard her sigh with pleasure, he looked up and touched her face. Then he pulled her in closer for a deeper kiss. They moved in deeper until the pace of their breathing quickened - the pace of partners who would soon make love.

Then Bulma pushed away from their embrace.

"Okay, honey," she said gently, kissing him once more. "I think I should go to bed now. You have my permission to devour all the food in kitchen tonight."

Vegeta put on his robe with his back to her. He needed to deal with his disappointment respectfully, so he chose not to feel anything at all after that moment.

"Yes, Bulma. I agree that you should get lots of rest, because we are meeting with someone tomorrow afternoon. Good night."

* * *

A tall, grey-haired man fidgeted nervously in the Briefs' library as he sat observing the dignified opulence of the room. A beautiful oil-paint portrait of Bulma and Vegeta faced him from the opposite wall. He was slightly amused that Vegeta looked so content in the painting, although the Saiyan prince was barely smiling. However, the way his arm protectively held Bulma's side said enough. Husband and wife were joined at hip. All those two needed were gold-plated thrones and crowns on their heads to match their regal pose. Their situation was a far cry from when the three of them first met many years before.

He looked down at his legs, touching them both above the knee, and sighed. He had brought a small gift for Bulma, which he purposely didn't mention to her husband, who had invited him there. He wasn't too worried about Vegeta's possible reaction to his gesture. He took a deep breath as they approached the door. He snickered listening to the irritation in Bulma's voice, followed by Vegeta's subdued growl at her. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Can you just _be silent_ for once in your life?"

" _Don't tell me to be quiet, Vegeta_. Shall I keep my eyes closed until scales grow on my corneas? This is absurd."

"What part of surprise do you not understand, woman? You usually prefer these children's games. My dignity stops me from seeking praise from you about my thoughtfulness and mirth."

The clacking of Bulma's crutch near the library's door gave their guest pause. He was more familiar with that particular sound than he preferred to be. The last few years hadn't been kind to his body and spirit either. Vegeta nodded to him as he led Bulma led to a chaise lounge nearby. The prince was loving and methodically attentive to his wife's needs: taking her crutch; carefully moving her legs onto the seat and covering them with a blanket; placing a pillow behind her head and arm for support. Whatever reservations their guest had about being there vanished. He would've done the same thing if he were in Vegeta's position. Only a man that secure with himself would seek help from another man who clearly disliked him.

"You may open your eyes now, Bulma."

"I should keep them closed strictly out of spite, Saiyan."

"Damn you." Vegeta tugged on a piece of her hair. "Open them now or else I'm throwing your makeup kits on fire outside."

"Fine, fine," Bulma said as she opened her eyes. Confused, she gazed at the man standing before her, who was anxiously touching a scar on his face. Vegeta crossed his arms and stepped back.

"Hello, Dr. Brief. I see Vegeta has finally made you speechless after all of these years. It's a miracle."

"Yamcha?"

"Glad you still recognize me, toots!" He bent down next to her and laughed. "I stopped dyeing my hair. Instead of 'the desert bandit,' I guess you can call me the silver wolf now."

" _Tch_." Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Get on with it before I change my mind, you clown."

"Change your mind _about what_ , Vegeta?" Bulma's face darkened. "Is this what I think it is?"

"He asked me to help you," Yamcha replied. "I'm happy to be your trainer if you're willing to accept the offer."

Bulma's eyes stared at the windows as if the both men had suddenly disappeared. Slightly hurt by her rejection, Yamcha clasped his hands and looked down at the floor.

"Leave us alone for a few, silver wolf." Vegeta's order came from politeness more than frustration. "We have snacks around here for domesticated animals. Our grandchildren will help you find them in the kitchen."

"Thanks for offering, jackass." Yamcha looked over at Bulma and smiled. "I am hungry. Don't be too hard on him after, toots."

Vegeta leaned against the door after he left, awaiting his wife's response. He was prepared to wait for hours if necessary. Bulma casually unfolded a newspaper. She was upset, and when that happened she struggled more while speaking. That pissed her off with him even further. **  
**  
"Would you get me some coffee please?"

"Having a quiet tantrum will not work, Bulma. Give old _scar face_ a chance to work with you."

" _Vegeta_ ," Bulma said angrily, "get some coffee - now. Take five minutes before returning. I will be ready to speak rationally then, and apologize to Yamcha on my behalf for making him wait."

Vegeta lit the fireplace to warm the room. Bulma was having a small pain attack - he sensed it - but he held back from reacting because they had to get through this conversation.

"I _will not_ apologize, Bulma. You have chosen to be rude, not I. Keep in mind that when someone offers a gift such as this, it is wise and proper to acknowledge it, even if you cannot accept."

"Don't lecture me about etiquette!" She threw the newspaper down. "That man can't stand you, and he's my…"

"He's your ex-boyfriend," Vegeta replied dryly. "How could I forget? Do you still have amorous feelings for him? Perhaps you will reconsider if I remove his ridiculous hairpiece."

"Ugh!" Bulma pulled up her blanket. "Stop teasing me."

He sat down next to her. "Are you still cold? I can find another blanket. I was not trying to make you angry, you know."

"Yes, you were." Bulma swallowed at first, and then she pinched the back of Vegeta's hand as hard as she could. "It's in your nature to bait people into a blind rage to get your way. Now just get the damned coffee, honey."

Vegeta was silent for a moment before he stood up. "I believe he can help because you share similar experiences."

"Because of his leg amputations…"

"Even with his new legs Yamcha still struggles with his loss as anyone would… just like you." Vegeta gazed at the ceiling. "You asked me to pull back, and that man knows I would rather eat rusty nails than seek help if _I knew_ I could do better. We have come far together, Bulma, but you were correct. You need a different approach. I'm too close."

"What I _don't need_ is charity, Saiyan. I asked you to stop treating me like a defective project. Your pity is worse."

"I will get your coffee. Do you want _your pills_ too?"

"No, Vegeta, and you're being unfair. Yes, I know I'm taking more for the breakthrough pain, but I told you I'm ready for therapy - with the right person."

"You cannot have it both ways, woman. Your pain is worse today, though. Since she's still here, I will ask Ella to bring some medicine and examine you before it becomes unbearable. Neither of us wants that."

Vegeta _hated_ saying that - hated it - but he was being selfish. Bulma didn't yell out anymore when her pain was at its worst. Instead she cried silently, and he just couldn't endure that happening. It broke his heart every single time.

Bulma slammed her crutch on the floor. "No, no, no. Ella will give me the pills, but then she'll bitch about reducing my dependence on them. Besides, I have a ton of work to do."

Vegeta bent over to kiss her. "You have a point."

Bulma had expected him to ask Chi-Chi or Krillin or maybe Gohan's wife Videl to help. They were accomplished martial artists and spiritualists who could help her stay strong and, perhaps, meditate. She had never been good at the latter. **  
**  
But Yamcha?

She didn't ask Vegeta for a confidant with a physical disability. _That role belonged to him_. Did this mean he gave up trying to understand what she was going through?

* * *

"You're dozing."

"No, bandit," Bulma said sleepily. "I'm thinking with my eyes closed. I knew my husband would send you back here."

Yamcha placed a wicker tray across her lap and poured coffee. A tiny pill box had been placed on the right side. Bulma didn't look at him directly as she swallowed them.

"You know, toots, it was hard for Vegeta to come to me. He sure has mellowed over the years. That's what love does, I guess."

"For heaven's sake, would you stop explaining my husband's feelings?" Bulma placed her cup on the tray and frowned. "Honestly, as much as we love each other, deep down _I know_ he still feels like I'm acting like a pathetic weakling. He called you that once too, right? It's insane for you to play couple's therapist with us when you can barely tolerate being near him. He shouldn't have asked you for anything."

"First, stop wallowing in _your own_ self-pity, Bulma." Yamcha nodded for her to look at the painting. "You know Vegeta has never called you pathetic - not once. Yes, he was one of the meanest, most vile men I knew back then, but your fiery ways enchanted him. It was mind-blowing for everyone. And whether you like it or not, I know exactly what you're going through. My thoughts about your spouse are irrelevant. _I'm here for you_."

"With all due respect, you don't know how I feel."

"Really now?" Yamcha mentally deactivated his left leg and lengthened her crutch to match his height. Then he reduced the power flow to his other leg.

"And just _what_ are you doing?" Bulma already knew the answer, but she hated his condescending attempt to teach her a lesson. What was this? Let's compare who has it worse? She wanted to throw him out.

Yamcha slowly walked around the room. "Since you asked, for starters, now I can't move well without this crutch. So I remember what it was like."

"You really don't have to do this," Bulma replied defiantly. "I'm already pissed off."

"Let me guess." Yamcha raised his eyebrow. "You aren't sleeping well, unless you're heavily dosed with drugs, because the pain is terrible at night. You avoid saying how bad the episodes have become because you don't want anyone to worry. You continue pushing yourself in unproductive ways that could do more harm. Your family is emotionally torn because they support your need for independence, but they also want you to be safe."

"Well done, bandit!" Bulma sneered back at him. " _Well done_. When did you get your psychotherapy license?"

Yamcha faced her. "You also fear that, one day, the crushing depression you felt during rehab will consume you. You're not ready to die at all, but sometimes you still feel like it would've been better - and you feel guilty. Shall I proceed?"

"That's enough, Yamcha."

"Splendid. I finally touched a nerve with you."

Bulma smoothed out the wrinkles in her blanket. At least the medicine was making her feel better. "I suppose you expect me to cry. Well that's not happening - and give me my crutch. You're being melodramatic hobbling around here like a lost puppy."

Yamcha chuckled. "What I expect, my dear, is for you to give Vegeta credit for swallowing his pride to find the best person to help you. Now would you let this one-time Tenkaichi Budokai fighter and _best baseball coach ever_ show you some tricks?"

"You're still a charming bastard, and I hate you for that. We'll try this for a week, and if I'm unhappy you're returning to the baseball dugout."

"Excellent! My wife will be thrilled that I'm making myself useful. She made me promise to give her progress reports, too."

Bulma's eyes widened with alarm. "Please don't bore Candace with my troubles. The last thing I need is a gaggle of her nosy friends bringing whole-grain bread to help with my bowel movements and unattractive hosiery to improve blood flow in my legs. I have a nurse on call for that torture."

Standing outside the library, Vegeta felt somewhat glum and jealous as he heard Yamcha plead on his behalf - far too dramatically, in his opinion - but it worked. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets as he walked away, listening to his wife's laughter. At least she wasn't in pain.

* * *

"Father, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"I am," Vegeta said flatly. "Now leave me alone, Trunks."

"Is this about Yamcha and mom?"

"Some days I feel like I need a language interpreter with all of you," Vegeta replied grumpily. "Leave the subject alone. Are you ready? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Trunks' eyes traced the landscape. "We've done low-impact exercise all week. I'm almost at full strength."

"You're lying."

"I am, but I'm still ready to go." Trunks raised his fist and coughed. "I'm surprised you didn't wake me at 5 a.m."

Vegeta handed him a thermos with hot tea. "And you did not try hard to find me later, even though you knew I was in the gravity room. Anyway, it was better for you to sleep longer - although it is enormously maddening how soft I am now. I always enjoyed dragging out of bed early when you were a child."

The men were driving together to the seaside. They would remain there through the day and stay overnight at a nearby inn. Their family would join them the following day.

"Mom seems to be doing okay so far, and it's only been a week."

Vegeta parked on the side of the road. He chose that option over shoving Trunks through the sun roof of their SUV.

"Son, please stop this because I have zero motivation to yell at you - but that might change. Your mother has the support she needs. How I feel is beside the point. I made the right choice precisely because it hurt to do it. Is that honest enough for you?"

"Yes." Trunks opened the car door and waved at his father to join him. "Let's take a walk."

"For fuck's sake, boy." Vegeta slammed his door. "You enjoy testing my patience. We will be in the area a few days. You can skip through the grass when everyone else arrives."

They removed their shoes to navigate sand trails neatly tucked between brown beach grass. The chilly air didn't bother them, although Trunks' lingering cough still concerned Vegeta.

Trunks turned and jogged backward, facing his father. "You do realize I know how much you enjoy having us here - in spite of our illnesses and arguments. You needed it."

Vegeta threw pellets of sandy dirt at him at high speed. "I need your brood's chaos like I need a bullet in my head, boy."

"You are holding back on me," Trunks said as he blocked the shots with his fingers. "They're just dirt balls."

Vegeta stopped and threw the pellets over his shoulder. "Son, I want you to come live with us at the estate."

"Say what?"

"You and Sonali have nothing to prove anymore. You are moving to West City anyway."

"What do you mean we have nothing to prove?"

"When you married, you rejected the help Bulma offered. I was not troubled, of course. You had to make your own way. Seeing Sonali heavily pregnant and bedridden in that one-bedroom shanty of yours was only time I felt anxious."

"And now?"

"Our home is large, and your sister is not returning. Your aunts and uncles would drive Bulma and me insane if they moved in, so we are willfully ignoring their hints. Maybe they could stay eventually… if something happens to one of us."

Trunks grabbed a piece of grass to chew on. "Let's return to the car. We have a few miles left and a lot of exercising to do."

* * *

Both dressed in white, Vegeta and Trunks stood on a cliff with their eyes closed. Their arms and legs moved slowly and rhythmically through several postures. At one point they looked like they were molding the clouds in their hands. Sonali and Bulma watched them from their spot on the beach below. They had driven down that morning with the twins and were now relaxing.

"Just look at them, Bulma. I've never seen Trunks do this before. They look like they're swimming on the horizon. It's absolutely beautiful. I thought for sure they would be hollering and knocking each other around in a battle. Are you warm enough, by the way?"

"My husband is full of surprises. He learned this practice late in life, in fact. The exercise was challenging because he had to slow down in order to do it appropriately. Now help me stand up. I want to move closer to the shore - and yes, I'm warm enough. You see these thermal clothes Vegeta forced me to wear today."

"Okay." Sonali dusted her off. "How will we do this? You need your hover chair. What about the crutch?"

"I'll use Artemis, but I don't want my crutch. Just hold on to my side after we arrive. The sand is sturdy enough to walk a few steps. I can rest on that rock over there."

Sonali threw a tiny capsule several feet behind her to unload the hover chair. "Artemis, come!"

The women held each other as foam-laced waves and seaweed clumps washed across their feet. The water was cold, but Bulma would've stood for hours if possible, and Sonali would've gladly helped if they had the stamina to stay rooted there.

"I've never been to this part of the seaside before, Bulma. You and dad have become real naturalists."

"We have been for years." Bulma closed her eyes and inhaled. "We had no reason to broadcast it. Now I have a question for you. Are you ready for it?"

"Ready for what?"

"Are you ready for this new life of yours?"

"If you mean am I ready to start at Capsule Corporation, then yes," Sonali said happily. "I turned in my resignation to my job before we left for the beach. Trunks will resign soon too."

Bulma shifted her gaze to the cliff. "Look over there at our husbands and think again about what I'm asking you, Sonali."

"Dr. Brief, not to sound offensive, but I feel like you're testing me on a subject I haven't studied."

Bulma closed her eyes again and sighed. "Will you be ready if my only son returned from fighting with a stab wound next to his heart, and the only thing keeping him alive is his will? Are you prepared for other mortals threatening him because of his father's history? What if an evil force possessed his brilliant mind to the point where you couldn't recognize him anymore?"

Sonali wrapped a blanket around their shoulders. At first she thought her mother-in-law was having some kind of rapid-onset depression, but that was illogical. She was in fairly good spirits before they arrived at the beach.

"Bulma, honey, please stop this. You're upsetting yourself."

"I am not upset, darling. I'm saying this for you. How will you weather the peaks and valleys in your relationship from now on? What about when one of your children follows his path? And trust me, one will. Can you accept it? Because that's the life you're facing. It's not only about running my company."

"Threats will continue whether or not Trunks fights," Sonali replied. "I am prepared to accept whatever happens. I was when I married into this family."

Bulma shook her head. "You aren't hearing me. Trunks may choose his mission over other concerns in spite of his devotion to you. It's not just about protecting Earth. He's avoided it for a long time, but this way of life calls him because, ultimately, he is _Prince Vegeta's_ son. That's why I allowed my husband to take Trunks places to see him train and fight, within reason, when they were younger. I went when I could too.

"Although Vegeta wanted this for years, he now has mixed feelings about Trunks doing this because of our own sacrifices. Marriage is hard enough without these obligations, and my son's heart would shatter if you left him."

"I won't leave him - not ever." Sonali felt overwhelmed, but she understood Bulma's need for closure. The woman was passing a torch light to her.

Bulma bent over slightly to catch her breath. She recalled Yamcha's first lessons that week about "leaning into the pain," although this episode felt like it would last longer.

Sonali lovingly stroked her mother-in-law's hair. The women exchanged glances, each seeing another version of themselves in their eyes.

"We should return, Dr. Brief."

"I see the boys going to start the fire." Bulma paused and looked around. "By the way, where the hell are your brats?"

Sonali laughed softly. "They will find us. Come along now."


	12. Yes, my son

"I'm sorry, Vegeta."

"For what?"

Bulma groaned. "Are you going to make me list everything?"

Vegeta pulled her closer to him in their bed. " _Hn_. That is a good start. Perhaps we should get paper to write them down. We can use your voice recorder, too."

"You really are going to be a hard ass tonight, aren't you?"

 _"Of course I am,"_ Vegeta thought. He would milk her urge to apologize for all that it was worth. It would be rewarding.

"Once again, you are asking a question you know the answer to."

"Okay, fine," Bulma said slowly, which her husband noticed. "I apologize for terrorizing you about Yamcha. You made a good decision. I'm looking forward to continuing when we're back. Do you want to watch?"

"Not now. You and your trainer need the space to trust each other through the process - god, I can't believe I'm saying this about Yamcha. You will feel pressure to perform if I am there. That is why you asked me to step back, remember?"

"Yeah, I know." Bulma looked over at her crutch and then reached for a small glass of water on the nightstand, which unexpectedly slipped from her hand. Vegeta reared back in the bed and pulled the top blanket to his side as the liquid splashed.

The accident caught Bulma's emotions off guard. The insecurities and anger she and Yamcha discussed before invaded her mind. She and Vegeta were in the prime of their lives. It was so unfair.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" The sound of her words grew faint as she stuttered through them. Then she began to cry.

Vegeta lowered his voice to calm her. "Listen to me, we are fine. _You are fine_. I will get another blanket."

"No, it's not! Just look at us. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

"Come here, woman." He pulled her back into his arms. "Shhh. There are plenty of things you could cry over. This is not one of them. Look down. See, your breasts are perky now. I like that."

Bulma wiped her face and laughed. Who knows how long that would last? She tried not to dwell on it. At least human science had advanced far enough to keep her looking relatively attractive, just not young. It disturbed her that she obsessed so much about it lately. She returned attention to her husband.

"I hate you, Saiyan."

"And you still married me, foolish girl. Let the buyer beware."

"Yeah, I guess I got a decent bargain." She touched his chin and kissed him. "I'm so sorry I haven't been as sensitive to your needs and fears. You have been dignified, but you have been hurting inside for a long time. Please forgive me. I love you."

She didn't expect Vegeta to say anything at first, and he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Her words had captured his heart. They embraced him in same the way he sometimes held her at night, when she cried from pain.

"Honey, I…

"Do not… continue, Bulma." He shook his head as his voice choked with emotion. "You said what I needed to hear."

He left the bed to put clothes on. Bulma was not surprised.

"I am taking a walk."

"Take as long as you need, babe."

Vegeta discovered the next day that Bulma had pre-ordered breakfast for delivery. She was asleep when the giant platters arrived, mostly for him, and delivered to the sitting room next door. She also got through the night without any pain, pleasing him considerably.

He got down on his knees next to the bed. "Hey, breakfast is here. I can bring you some now, but why did you order so early?"

Bulma yawned. "You… have… to train. I'll eat later. The food will stay warm."

Normally Vegeta would have left her alone, but he wanted some company before the long day they had planned. He shook her slightly before she drifted back to sleep.

"Wake up. You did not eat much at dinner last night. Try having some of this with me. I will leave for training afterward."

"Damn it." Bulma pushed herself up in the bed and rubbed her eyes. "All right, fine. I need to have my leg brace or use Artemis, and I'm returning to bed when you leave."

Vegeta had already brought a tray to the bedside by the time Bulma finished complaining. "Hmm, maybe I should let you starve instead. I have eaten half of my meal already."

"I'm not surprised," Bulma said, nibbling on a piece of bacon. "By the way, Sonali was impressed with you and Trunks on that cliff yesterday. You looked great, and you were showing off."

"I do not show off," Vegeta replied with mild irritation. "Here, taste the fruit. I merely have high standards. This is just the start. Trunks is halfway there already, at least for now."

Bulma licked her finger and continued chewing. "You're not telling me something. Get on with it."

"I will not continue instruction after the family moves in."

"Because?"

"He must stand on his own."

"And?"

"And what, woman? You just heard me."

Bulma handed over her coffee for Vegeta to finish. "I have explained more to Sonali about your concern for Trunks and my well-being. I also shared more personal thoughts about being your wife. We also discussed expectations."

He sat up straight as a board and puffed out his chest like a preening peacock. "Were your thoughts about being my wife and best friend all wonderful?"

"Not a chance."

"Damn it."

Vegeta's sipped the coffee with a frown, while his dark eyes playfully peered at Bulma over the edge of the cup. He had endless simple ways to make her smile. This was a favorite.

"You just asked a question you knew the answer to, honey."

"True." He grabbed the last pieces of bacon from her plate.

* * *

"Go away."

"No."

"Go away, Gohan."

"No."

The day had turned out gorgeous. Vegeta made this nature preserve a frequent place to train outside of his home. Capsule Corporation also owned the land, which meant that public access could be shut off as needed. He decided to close the location all week after everyone returned from their beach trip. Trunks and Sonali and the twins departed to their modest home to gather their belongings - and dispose of decorations that would likely give Bulma panic attacks if they brought them inside the estate.

The prince's core personality was quiet and reflective. When they met, Bulma recognized it long before the others. He always talked a lot of bullshit before, during, and after he fought; or when he angrily demanded something to achieve whatever extreme goal he had set for himself; or when someone else challenged his pride. Beyond that, he kept his own counsel.

Over time his quiet ways had become a magnet for others who _wanted_ to talk - either about his feelings or theirs. The behavior puzzled him. He rarely welcomed it, especially during these moments, unless it came from family or people he strongly liked and respected. Son Goku had become more like an annoying younger brother, so he could tolerate the man's blathering for short periods, too, until he was forced to yell at him.

Vegeta crouched into a forward-leaning posture with his hands raised. "You are just as annoying as your clown of a father, although I will admit after all these years that I somewhat like you."

Dressed in his traditional orange karategi, Gohan smiled with the cheerful eagerness of a man who had found gold. Getting Vegeta to talk with him usually required a respectable beating, and the prince's invitation to spar was too tempting to reject.

He bent his knees and raised both fists to his face.

"It's great to see you, Vegeta! I'm sorry we didn't chat at Bulla's wedding. Now let's get down to business. I have a feeling that you want me and Piccolo to work with Trunks."

" _Hn_." Vegeta lunged in for uppercut punches to Gohan's chest and chin. "What makes you think I would ask _you_ or the surly green giant for anything - and your standing posture is all wrong for this fight. Did you break your feet or something?"

Gohan's head swayed as he blocked hits from both sides. "You didn't have to ask me to help. I'm like your second son. I know you would trust me with Trunks' life, but my influence on him will never match yours right now. He needs his father."

"Trunks does not need me in the way you believe, boy."

"Dude! When will you _stop_ calling me boy? My own kid is a year older than your daughter."

Gohan grabbed Vegeta's wrist and spun the man behind his back, until the prince stepped through the twist to fling his opponent underneath him.

Vegeta smirked. "Like you said, you are like my second son."

Gohan's surprise at Vegeta's plainspoken confession also left him open to the prince's powerful right hook, throwing him a few miles back until his body slammed into the mountainous foothills surrounding them.

" _You dirty bastard!_ "

"That was a fair hit!" Vegeta barked. "My admitted fondness for you is no excuse to leave yourself unprotected! Unacceptable! What if an evil being possessed my mind again? How do you expect me to believe that you can work exclusively with my son?"

"Well, at least that wasn't as bad as the punch in dick you gave me on Namek when I was a kid," Gohan yelled back. "And your last question is stupid! We are toying with each other now."

"Awww, are your little feelings still hurt? You certainly were strong enough to take my _love punch_ then, and you deserved it."

"Vegeta, I was surprised that I could still have children until my wife became pregnant. That hit was a _sucker punch_ meant for my father, asshole - and you told me as much. As I recall, your 'nobility' in battle could be erratic sometimes."

Vegeta waved him off. "Stop whining! You stayed alive. Recall that you almost crushed every bone in my body when you turned Oozaru and fell on me - _as a kid_. If I were a regular human I would have severe arthritis by now."

"No, you would be dead." Gohan spun and dived for the ground.

"Indeed, I would be," Vegeta said, speeding next to him. The energetic look on his face faded back to seriousness. "I need to be alone now. You had your fun bothering me. Make yourself useful and visit that giant green beanstalk you call a teacher."

Gohan jogged after him after they landed together. "You were the most disappointed when I didn't pursue taking full advantage of my powers at first, weren't you?"

Vegeta looked over and said nothing.

"My father…"

"What _about_ Kakarot?"

"He would've loved that too, of course, but you took it so personally. Actually, I kind of appreciated it, even when you stopped talking to me for a little while. In some ways dad remains a big kid. He also…"

" _Quit it, Gohan_. Both Kakarot and I made choices in our lives - some quite unwise and selfish - that endangered our loved ones or hurt you emotionally. Furthermore, when you were a boy, you were one of the first people who saw me at my nastiest. Do not sugarcoat the past to resolve your mixed feelings about your father's absences from your family. I cannot support that."

"Vegeta, if you would stop interrupting me, all I want to say is thank you for helping me grow up, in your own bad-tempered way, when dad wasn't around. You struggled, too, but I also respected your attempts to be with your family _until you got it right_."

"Ugh! I cannot take much more of this from you, boy." Vegeta thrust his hand past Gohan's arm. "Go sit over there in the grass - in fact, sit far enough away so I can restrain myself from punching you out of _anger_ this time."

Laughing, Gohan walked a few steps and sat cross-legged on the ground. Vegeta looked down at him with a scowl as if he were preparing to scold a ten-year-old. Then he sat next to him.

"Of course I was disappointed. My god, you were so powerful when you were a boy. It was amazing. How could I not be impressed? My jealousy was much different from my rivalry with your father back in those days. I also respected your bravery for someone so young. You are the only fighter that I have ever apologized to - twice - for acting like an asshole.

"Gohan, at first I wanted Trunks to achieve what you had, not just me, and surpass us both. But then, like it had for you, my son's desire faded. I had to accept it, and you know why."

"Well then, give him the chance to learn again and fight alongside you as a man, just like you did when…"

"When Trunks from the future sought help to fight those bastards Zamasu and Black? That is a poor example. My sons' personalities and hardships are different. _This Trunks_ will not grow if I take the lead. He would disagree, but I know he would be more focused on trying to be like me than maximizing his potential. Besides, I need to step back to deal with… other priorities."

Vegeta lowered his head. His thoughts had silenced his words.

Gohan leaned forward to get his attention. "Vegeta?"

"I need to be with his mother, Gohan. I am giving her the space she requested, and I will continue doing it, but she still needs my support. I would not be the man I am now had it not been for her. Surely you can agree with that. Our son will be fine."

"I understand, my friend. I understand."

* * *

Trunks had felt Vegeta's restlessness all morning before they arrived at the nature preserve. It had only been a month since Sonali and their children returned home to pack. The task could have been done quickly, but instead they stayed there longer to give Bulma and Vegeta more time alone together. There would be much to do once everyone arrived, including preparing Sonali to run Capsule Corporation. Trunks returned regularly to check on his parents. He felt grateful for their kindness, but he now wondered if Vegeta regretted his offer for them to move in.

Vegeta didn't speak before they bowed to each other to begin practicing routine kneeling and standing fight positions. On their knees, Trunks grabbed his father's wrist, pinning Vegeta's arm sideways while the man laid face-down beneath him.

"Father, what's going on? Your energy is off balance. This should be meditative practice for us."

Vegeta returned to his kneeling position. "Son, I am not leaving Earth to train with you, Gohan, and Piccolo. Our work together ends when you are completely settled at the estate."

"What do you mean you're not going?"

"You have accepted this life. Other beings far more powerful can help you, willingly, as they did with Kakarot's family and me. And you will soon be asked to help others even more than you have done already."

"But father, I want you there..."

Furious, Vegeta turned abruptly and pushed his finger into Trunks chest _._ " _Silence!_ You think this is hard now, just wait! You are a Saiyan prince with my blood in your veins. How dare you stand here pleading! I will not tolerate it!"

Vegeta's flew far above him between the mountains and burst into his Super Saiyan form. His voice grew louder.

"Son, remember your fury and pain when Majin Buu almost beat me to death?! _See it! Breathe it!_ Use your anger with me from long ago to drive you, too. These experiences will move you to the next level, as it has with others in our clan!"

Trunks spiraled into the air to face his father and held the man's shoulders until Vegeta shook him off. They looked into each other's eyes and returned to ground.

"This anger isn't just about me."

Vegeta turned toward him. "Oh, a lot of it is, boy. Trust me on that. If you keep this up, I will hammer you again like I did on your sister's wedding day."

Trunks shook his head. "No, mom is affecting you too. Why are you upset? She seems okay since we returned from the beach weeks ago. I mean, when Sonali and I were ill, she looked after us with you as much as she could too."

Vegeta knew Trunks was right, but he remained restless.

"I am not upset with her. Bulma admitted that, in some ways, she was building an emotional wall between us because of her own doubts. I began to believe I was not doing anything right, but now I am encouraged. Your family needs stability too. I am here for you - always - but I cannot do this for you."

"Father, you know what mom wants. She has encouraged us - and what makes you think I can't provide stability for my family anymore? You did with Bulla and me."

Vegeta knelt back down. "Hear me on this. Your mother is supportive, but she also feels uncertain. She gave birth to you. You are our only son. You are choosing in young adulthood to endanger yourself, and you have an inbred drive to fight. Do you understand now?"

"What about my other question?"

"You will continue being a great father, but your twins will go through major growing pains. They are strong and rebellious, which I admire, but they _will_ need someone like me to help you and Sonali guide them through tougher moments. _Wait, do you feel that?_ "

Vegeta touched his head and then his chest. The shock almost knocked him over. The first words he said were unclear. Then he looked over at Trunks, horrified.

" _No!"_ he yelled. _"Tell me this is not happening now, son. Oh god, please not now. This cannot be happening!_ "

Trunks ran over to pull his stunned father up from the ground. His eyes filled with tears as Vegeta's pleas continued. Then the prince leaned forward across his knees. His strong, deep voice had been replaced by a grief-stricken murmur.

Trunks bent down next to his ear. "Father, listen to my voice. I haven't left you. We have to go now. You're going to be okay. We are in this together."

Nodding, Vegeta reached for Trunks' arm from the ground.

"Yes, my son."


	13. Who Will Be His Interpreter?

**Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me about the progression of this story!**

* * *

 _"What took you so long, you jerk? I have been waiting for you. I'm tired, honey."_

 _"I am sorry, Bulma."_

 _"You turned out to be decent guy after all. We had a good run together, haven't we?"_

 _"We certainly have."_

 _"They all need you now, Vegeta."_

 _"I am not so sure anymore. I thought I was sure. I thought… I was."_

 _"You have no choice. We'll meet again in another lifetime, my king."_

 _"My queen, it has been an honor to be loved by you."_

Vegeta went to bed that evening with heaviness in his heart that he hadn't felt in years. There was always a chance that Bulma would have another stroke. At least they were able to speak mentally one last time. He didn't attend the funeral, and no one questioned him about it, not even Goku.

Waking up frustrated him, but it usually didn't take long before sleep returned. He had no dreams or nightmares, just darkness. He also didn't have the energy to resist his family's attempts to look after him. He didn't care. Pride didn't matter either. Everything he told Trunks and Sonali about being present for them was a lie. He had lied to himself.

Trunks, Sonali, and Bulla took turns caring for him after the funeral. He responded to their interactions just enough to keep them somewhat relieved, but after a week he stopped leaving his room. The family had become anxious by the end of the second week and was having arguments about what to do.

Trunks sat in the estate's library drinking a glass of 100-year-old brandy that Bulma gave him years before. Then he picked one of his father's cigars to smoke. His mother devised some of her best ideas in this room, and she never failed to impress anyone with the breadth of her intelligence. He took another sip from the glass, listening to loud footsteps echoing in the hallway. He stood up after the visitor's shadow appeared at the entrance.

"Bulma would be upset to see you smoking that in here, Trunks."

Trunks relit his cigar and smiled. "You're being kind, Ella. She would probably throw me out of the house, to be honest. What brings you here today? Would you like some brandy?"

Being who she was, and while she appreciated his good manners, Ella wanted to get the point. As a nurse and family friend, she knew the Brief children were mentally invested in appearing "strong" because of how their parents raised them. Trunks' restrained greeting didn't fool her. He was copying Vegeta's behavior to comfort himself. Perhaps he didn't realize that.

"How is your father?"

"He's heartbroken, but we are all here for him."

Ella followed behind as he walked to the rear window. "Let me see him, Trunks. Bulla told me that he has not left his room."

Trunks lifted an empty glass to offer brandy again, which Ella finally accepted. "Father hasn't spoken or eaten much since the funeral. I won't let the twins see him like this now, and they're angry with me about it. He drinks an adequate amount of water when we insist, which we do often, so I suppose that's a good sign."

"I suppose, dear. I suppose." Ella removed her floppy wool hat and handed him a bag filled with pies. Her face showed no lively expression as she fastened her braids, but the look in her eyes was soft and sympathetic.

Trunks observed that she had brought cherry pies - his father's favorite dessert. Apparently she had come ready to work, but he was unsure whether Vegeta needed her kind of nursing.

"Ella, your response doesn't exactly help. What do you mean?"

"Trunks, the weeks are passing. I had hoped this would not happen. Your father still wasn't emotionally prepared for the likelihood that Bulma would die before him like this so soon. In spite of her sadder moments, once Vegeta got her through the toughest part of her recovery, your mother threw herself into everything possible to stay lively - albeit unwisely at times. Now I believe your father is deciding whether he wants to live. Those two loved each in a way that many people don't achieve in one lifetime."

Ella opened the mahogany wood cabinet where Trunks stored the brandy to retrieve dessert plates and a knife to cut one the pies. He cleared the coffee table, knowing that his wife and sister would arrive soon.

"Ella, we all knew losing her would hit him this hard, but he's one of the strongest men I know. I think it's unwise to send you in there yet. I would grieve terribly if my wife died, too. In fact, before mom passed, he told me how much he wants to help us raise the twins. He has something to live for."

Ella pulled out a handkerchief to wipe tears from her eyes. Then she patted Trunks on the back. "What you don't know is Vegeta and I share something between us. When you and Bulla weren't there visiting, I was the only worker at the rehabilitation hospital he spoke with regularly - like a normal person - after your mother's first stroke. He barely responded to anyone but me. Our doctors were frightened of him, so I translated every grunt, scowl, and insult for them and others there. For some reason he liked having me around after the first time we argued one day - at the top of our lungs."

Trunks put his arm around her shoulder. "I'm sure he did."

Ella smoothed the wrinkles from her white uniform and took a long breath to regain her self-control. "My beloved husband, who had been ill for years, was in a nursing home near the hospital. I had been caring for him at home, alone, until I couldn't anymore. I am a private person so I don't discuss my troubles much, but somehow Vegeta found out when he died.

"He asked me to sit next to him the day I returned to work. He had never done anything like that before, so I didn't know what to think. Then he handed me a check for more money that I had ever seen, Trunks. He said, 'You will be cared for appropriately as you have cared for me and my wife. You are not alone.' After that I was able to retire from my job. He wouldn't let me show my appreciation in other ways, except when he wanted pies. We haven't spoken about his kindness to me ever since."

"I'm not shocked that he didn't tell anyone," Trunks said. "He respected your privacy - and your pride."

"Yes, he did," Ella said, wiping her handkerchief across her eyes. "Look, I know you think I might not be the best person to help, but I am. Give me some time with him. Have Bulla take the twins with her for a week or so. You and Sonali must prepare yourselves for handling Capsule Corporation, too. I will cook for your family tonight. How long has it been since you last checked on your father?"

"About an hour before you arrived. My wife is with him now. She has been singing quietly to him."

"I didn't know she could sing."

"Yeah, she does, although not often. Vegeta thinks most music is unbearable noise, except when Sonali sings. He never asks her to, but she does sometimes when the entire family is here."

"Did he respond?"

"He ate some after I sang, Ella." Sonali entered the room and hugged Trunks from the back. He leaned over to kiss her.

"Vegeta will continue to grieve if he gets out of the place he's in now," Ella continued. "I would suggest that whatever you do, be prepared for his anger."

Trunks had been wondering if his father would make it through without going into a self-destructive rage. Perhaps the depression was a way to avoid that reaction. That bothered Trunks more because his father's natural instinct was to protect them. He would rather hurt himself than put them at risk.

"By the way, what exactly has my father told you about himself, Ella?"

Ella looked displeased. Trunks realized he sounded like he was suspicious of her, which wasn't what he intended.

"I don't need to know Vegeta's entire life story to understand that he has struggled," she replied. "His gruff behavior told me that much. I imagine he was a nightmare to deal with in his youth."

Sonali and Trunks looked at each other.

Ella paused to sip from her glass. "Your silence over my words says enough."

"Ella!" Bulla rushed over to hug her. They held their warm embrace longer than they typically did. They both needed it.

"How are you holding up, sweetheart?"

Bulla walked to the fireplace and gazed at her parents' portrait. "I'm doing the best I can, I guess. I'm glad we're here for each other. Our friends have been great, too. I'm just upset that even I can't get daddy out of this bad place that he's in."

"It is not your job to bring your father out of anything," Ella replied. "He needs a different way to manage his grief. Being without your life partner is scary when everything changes around you - no matter how strong you are."

Bulla glanced at her brother. "So what should we do?"

"We should move him," Ella said. "I still have my nursing license and privileges at the hospital where I worked to care for patients as needed."

Trunks felt a rush of anger but managed to stay calm. "We are not moving him to a mental ward. He is grieving, not losing his mind."

"I said nothing about a _psychiatric_ _ward_ ," Ella frowned at him. "Your father has stopped eating mostly for almost three weeks. The human body can go without food up to that point, or perhaps a couple more, and he is well-built man, but I would rather not test the limits."

Trunks walked to the back of the room, taking his cigar with him. Sonali knew he was trying to be patient. He had been particularly irritable with everyone lately about how his father would be cared for. She had given her husband a wide berth, and tried to avoid arguments, because his grief was raw too. Having seen Vegeta break down so sadly was awful. Trunks hadn't realized until then just how frightened his father was of being without Bulma. She had been his lifelong translator for a world that still confused him sometimes. Who would be his interpreter now? Every tool his wife provided - every one that she created with ingenuity - enhanced his natural talents. Each invention and every fighting suit she made were love letters to him.

" _Trunks_ , are you listening to anything we're saying?" Bulla asked.

"Of course I'm listening - and you know he's not human, Ella. Father can slow down his metabolic rate naturally to 'hibernate' and reduce muscle loss, much like some other types of animal and non-Earthling species."

"Yeah, but how do you know he's doing that?" Bulla walked around in front of him. "Daddy is severely depressed. He may not be controlling his bodily resources well, or he's chosen not to. Maybe she's right, big brother."

Ella laid pieces of pie on the coffee table. "Trunks, you are making decisions based on emotion, not logic. Families do often when their loved ones struggle like this."

Trunks' face turned fiery red. They didn't see his father at the nature preserve. It wasn't the first time he had picked him up from the ground. In both instances Vegeta was struggling and redefining his place in the world, and he was in severe pain. Trunks remembered how Piccolo tried to stop him, when he was a boy, from helping his father escape Majin Buu's violent beating.

* * *

 _"Stay where you are, Trunks! You'll just cause Vegeta more pain if you get involved!"_

But he had to get there. He couldn't just leave him. His best friend Goten followed along to help.  
 _  
"Dad? Dad? It's all right now. We're here. Come on, dad. Please, please wake up!"_

 _"Is he alive, Trunks? He's been hurt real bad."_

 _"Of course he is, Goten! My dad's the toughest guy in the whole world! My mom told me - my dad, he used to be the prince of every single Saiyan. That's right, Goten! He's a prince - a prince - and there's no way he could lose to a stupid monster!"  
_  
 _"Trunks, my son…"_

They would never understand.

* * *

"Okay, I have had it with this!" He marched to the middle of the room and extinguished his cigar. "What part of 'no' do you all not understand? We also don't need the publicity. It was bad enough when mom got sick, and father has experienced enough traumas to last five lifetimes. I saw some of it when I was a boy. He told me about some it. None of you were there - _none of you_ \- and you don't know the true extent of how bad it was, so don't tell me I'm incapable of making decisions that could help him!"

Sonali rubbed his shoulders to soothe him. "Trunks, honey, no one said you can't make good decisions. We're all upset and should work together because we love him too. Maybe his brother can help also."

Trunks reached for her hand, pulling her back into his arms. "Uncle Tarble told him a while ago that he would support any decision we make if something bad happened. As long as father is still eating and drinking water, then he's hanging on. If we try to move him now he may lose whatever spirit he has left. He should stay in familiar surroundings."

"Fine," Ella said. "We have discussed this enough. I trust your judgment, Trunks. I will start dinner now for you, but please let me care for him while I am here. I owe him that."

Bulla looked up. "Guys, do you hear that? It sounds like someone is crying outside of the door. I think it's one of the children."

"Mommy, can I come in?"

"Tasmin, what's wrong?" Sonali ran over to her. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Is elder going to die? Is that why Ella is here? I tried bringing him water, like you and dad did. He took my hand but didn't say anything to me. Why aren't you doing anything to help him more?"

"Sweetie, I told you and Tery to let your grandfather rest," Trunks said. "You know he hasn't been feeling well since grandma died. He's very sad right now, but he loves you both immensely."

"But dad!"

"Tasmin, I know you're worried, but we're caring for him." Trunks nodded at his sister. "You and your brother need a break from being here, and you have schoolwork, so aunt Bulla is taking you with her for now."

"No! That's not fair! Why can't we help too?"

Trunks looked over at his wife. " _Father was right about these two."_

 _"Trunks, don't give her clues that we're speaking telepathically,"_ Sonali said. _"She knows we're able to, remember?"_

Trunks picked up his little girl and kissed her cheek. "I promise that we'll keep you informed about your elder, sweetie. Do we have a deal?"

"I guess so, dad."

"That's good enough for me. Now dry your tears and find your brother. We're having a great meal tonight - aren't we, Ella?"

"What a foolish and insulting question." Ella left the room without looking back. "I have never made a bad meal."

Ella entered Vegeta's room later that evening carrying a tray with a simple digestible meal. One tray for a man who could eat an entire grocery store's worth of food. That upset her. However, his body seemed to be holding up well, which relieved some of her concern. Trunks was likely correct that Vegeta's body was in stasis - and that he was controlling it - but she knew that the man would decide soon enough whether he wanted that control to end.

"It is time for you to get up, Vegeta."


	14. Of Mirrors and Reflections

"My existence consists of forever bringing myself into being – and, correlatively, fleeing from the dead, inert thing that is the totality of my past actions."

Those were philosopher's words - contemplative language of existentialists - that applied to the entirety of Vegeta's life. He had become been his own unique branch of metaphysics on the nature of being. After the first week of mourning his wife's death, the vast, unresponsive darkness of his slumber provided an indispensable cover of emotional protection. His family's interruptive attempts to care for his basic needs were less frustrating then because he trusted that after they left, nothingness would soon again insulate his body and mind. His more lucid and conversational moments were almost always with Sonali, whose preternatural tranquility projected understanding for his plight in ways that his mourning and deeply worried children couldn't. She had listened closely to Bulma's concerns before she died about her father-in-law's vulnerabilities. Perhaps she related differently because, like Vegeta, she had been permanently orphaned and, later, abused as a child. The loss and pain she endured were like none other. Until she met Trunks, she didn't believe that she deserved or would ever experience enough love to fill the void inside of her.

Vegeta didn't welcome the gradual transformation of that unconscious hollowness of grief into a slide-show dreamscape, complete with narration and analysis. Sometimes he heard Bulma's or Trunks' voices - or he heard Goku or worse, Frieza. Each held giant mirrors reflecting accurate depictions of him at every stage of his life. He had died twice, seen hell up-close, and remembered hearing during his judgment that his once-blackened soul may be erased for eternity. Yet he still experienced the salvation of resurrection: of love and forgiveness, of joy and reclamation, of friendship and understanding. Why him? Perhaps the cosmic balance had experienced a rift, which occasionally happened, that had to be righted. Maybe that rift unstitched the path to righteousness that he should've walked earlier in life. Maybe he wasn't born to be evil. Was it wrong and ungrateful to consider these thoughts given the momentous, abundant riches he had now had in his life?

Many would say yes - or maybe this was another, more psychologically destructive version of hell: to experience the euphoria of a fortunate life and lose it piece by piece, starting with the one person who knows you best. Maybe the scenery of his multifaceted life would replay like a broken record until powers greater than he decided that they were satisfied with his punishment and put him out of his misery forever. Only they knew that the siren's song of wickedness and perfidy still called out to him at times, when the nightmares of the violence from which he suffered and inflicted on others plagued his mind. The gentle balm that his precious wife provided subdued and quieted their recriminations. She would be rewarded.

Now Bulma was gone, and a mirror hovered in front showing his reflection alone. Vegeta was clinging to corporeal life, but it was becoming harder to awaken to whatever this "reality" happened to be, especially if it meant reliving the searing pain of losing Bulma, or perhaps someone else he loved deeply in an alternate version of his existence that the powers-that-be might choose for him, if they did at all.

* * *

Dearest wife,

You breathed life into what had been for so long a broken and desolate spirit. I lived for nothing but myself and my pride in a legacy that would never, ever be realized - or so I once thought. When we met, they were all I had to endure the ferrous stench of the crimes and torture surrounding me without going completely mad.

I cannot erase the past, but I have tried to atone for my sins. Indeed, I found honor in protecting a world that I never expected would become my own. The other fighters had every reason to hate me when I came here, and I imagine some still do. I was an insufferable bastard, even as we cheated death together and rejoiced in our hard-won victories.

It was you, my love, who forced me to re-evaluate my life. I could not understand why you cared, knowing my history… and my irascibility. I wanted none of it - especially from Kakarot, since my existential crisis began with him. He challenged my rage and shame with empathy, telling me that I was more than a ruthless mercenary, along with you. I am grateful that you stood by us through all of the madness. My god, how incorrigible we all were in those days! You were hell-bent on getting your way, and so was I. Make no mistake about it: You were insane. I guess brilliant minds such as yours are prone to these extremes. What other explanation could there be for why you eventually cared for a volatile son of a bitch like me: once an oppressive overseer, an abused, orphaned child soldier, and a pauperized prince. Your friends certainly believed you had gone off the deep end - and rightfully so.

You would often stroke my head when I cried out at night, begging for an end to the torture in my dreams that I could barely verbalize to you out of shame. And you wept with me. Sometimes I desperately needed to be inside you, to make love to you, after I emerged from my delirium, and you never refused me back then.

The day you died in my arms, before I returned to our bed that evening, I gazed at stars that I once carried you under. I listened closely for your whisper when the sky thundered. I felt your kiss on my forehead in the rain. The night wind was heavy with the scent of lavender as I cried in your garden. There I saw your footsteps and heard your festive, fiery laughter. I committed them to memory. - Vegeta

* * *

Dearest husband,

It's folly to be married and not expect that one day you might lose your spouse to any number of circumstances, the foremost being death. After Majin Buu, Trunks and I prepared our minds long ago that more than one battle might take you from us prematurely - or as prematurely as one could describe for proud warrior such as you. Bulla understands that burden, but she hasn't experienced the trauma of it, fortunately. We've had many good years together and opportunities to grow comfortable with believing - finally, blessedly - that we had many more years together. Yet, not a day goes by without hearing your oft-repeated maxim: "Warriors must always be prepared, especially during times of peace."

You are prepared, and your peace is guaranteed, my love, even if we never see each other again. You acknowledged that I bore the weight of your troubles unequally, but honey, I chose to be your wife, and you eventually rose to the challenge of being the man that, in my mind's eye, I knew you would be. Set yourself free from the guilt. - Bulma

* * *

Earlier, Ella had been deep in her thoughts while preparing Vegeta's meal. The dinner she made for the Briefs put everyone in a better, more relaxed mood. She had finally convinced them to retire for the evening, except for Trunks, who decided to meditate somewhere outside of the estate. At least that's what he told everyone. She dimmed the lights in the kitchen, humming a song to herself, but then she felt compelled to stand still.

She wasn't alone. Her back straightened, but she had never been easily frightened, even as a child.

 _"I know you want to help, Ella, but I suggest that you not delve too far into Vegeta's mind. You might not like what you see."_

The voice speaking to her telepathically didn't sound unfriendly, but that meant nothing. The calmest of beings could be the most brutal and sadistic killers. She set the food tray down on the counter once again, but she didn't attempt to look around. _"Who are you, and what do you want? Show yourself."_

 _"My name is Piccolo, and I am here because this family is watched over by me and others. They don't allow everyone get as close as you have to them."_

 _"And I mean them no harm, but obviously you seem to think I do,"_ the woman retorted.

 _"I know you are an empath. It has served you well as a nurse, Ella - and you have helped people, I'm sure - but as I said, Vegeta's mind isn't one to trifle with._ "

Ella was starting to become angry. _"Okay, Piccolo - or whatever your name is - so you know what my abilities are, but I cannot read or control minds. Vegeta and Bulma were kind to me. I can only provide a voice of comfort. He would have to choose to allow me to help him with his mental pain. And I hadn't planned to do anything until trying to talk directly with him first."_

Piccolo walked out of the shadows to the front of the kitchen. "I know you're telling the truth, but I also know there's more. You are not human, are you?"

Ella crossed her arms and looked suspiciously at the seven-foot tall Namekian. He was, as usual, dressed in his head-to-toe weighted fight clothing. She had never seen him before, but many people knew the Briefs were part of a close-knit group of martial-artist warriors and mystics who helped serve as Earth's protectors. Not all of these mortals were openly known, and some weren't human, and they were largely left alone. They weren't interested in drawing attention to themselves unless the situation called for it. Although Bulma had no special physical powers, her contributions and intelligence had left the world a better and safer place too. As one the richest women in the world, she had always attracted the most publicity, but even then, most people kept their distance because of her husband's unapologetic protectiveness. Her social life may have been full and vibrant, but folks didn't ask a lot of questions after she and Vegeta became a couple - because crossing him could lead to an unfortunate and swift death sentence.

"Does Trunks know you're here?"

"He knows," Piccolo replied. "I saw him outside before he left, but he doesn't know we're speaking, and you will not tell him."

Without considering the danger of doing so, Ella walked forward and thrust her finger at him. "I don't care who the hell you are, but you have _no right_ to give orders. No one blackmails me - _no one_. I have no problem telling them what you know already. I have nothing more to lose at this point in my life, and I do not fear you."

Piccolo sighed, even though Ella's stubbornness amused him. She was cornered, with no way out of her predicament, but she stood her ground. "Simply _answer_ my question, Ella. You are not human, and this family doesn't know. Where are you from and what draws you to them?"

Ella looked away and sighed with resignation. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Not unless you give me a reason to."

"I… am a Tuffle. I have lived on Earth since I was young."

Piccolo's eyes scanned her from head to toe, but he did not show any emotion. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now."

"Shall I count the reasons?" Ella sneered. "You are a smart fellow. There are many, the first one being I have no weapons or other means to fight like you. That's what you were observing me for, am I correct?"

Piccolo was both furious and highly offended, but not because of her insult. "I have grown impatient with your attitude. You know damn well what you're doing, and I guarantee that Vegeta would respond more violently than I am now if he knew the truth about you."

"As I said before, I am not here to harm the Saiyan prince or anyone else," Ella said. "He might be angry at first, but I know he wouldn't hurt me - I know it. Piccolo, he's becoming more unwell each day, triggered by Bulma's death, and I want to stop his decline. He needs to grieve for her, but he can only do this productively by coming to terms with his past. I don't know all details - and I don't want to know - but I am here. What I do know is Vegeta didn't fully accept how powerful a setback her death would be at this point in their lives."

Piccolo wondered why she was so determined to help Vegeta. True, she seemed harmless, but why had she come out of the shadows after all of this time, risking grave danger to herself? Everyone knew Vegeta had been struggling since Bulma first became ill, but obviously the grief over her condition had eroded his own sense of protectiveness for himself over time. That wasn't a good thing. Dende warned that they both needed to watch over the family more closely for that reason. When Gohan told Piccolo that Vegeta would not train Trunks, although he understood some of the prince's reasoning behind the decision, what struck him was Vegeta's choice of words: _"Trunks does not need me in the way you believe."_

"I'm done debating with you, Ella. Apparently, you don't know Vegeta as well as you believe you do, and I know what kind of pain he's in, which is why I am warning you. Others have tried to enter his mind before, and he's built defenses since then. He had to do that in order to remain sane. Beyond that, there is some value to keeping certain memories locked away, _and_ _you are not a god_."

Ella calmly returned to the kitchen counter to pour a cup a tea for herself. "My father was a respected scientist on Planet Plant. Before the war between the Tuffles and Saiyans broke out, he had already been searching for other planets across the galaxy to migrate to permanently. Even our closest friends and family wondered why. There weren't going anywhere. I was already a teenager, and we were in our fifth year of battle, so my father had a ship prepared…just for me. He wanted to stay and help."

"Now you want to hear why no one came for you."

"Oh, stop it.," Ella said dismissively. "They're all dead, I'm sure. I don't need Vegeta to tell me. My father was one of the few high-level government officials who believed Tuffles should have dealt differently with the Saiyans to avoid war - to stop treating them like they were beneath us. They weren't all vicious thugs and ignorant brutes, he said, and I believed him. However, when Vegeta's father rose to power during the war, there was no turning back for either side.

"Vegeta has done his part for the greater good here on Earth and elsewhere. That's what people know about him. If I wanted to even suggest publicly that he wasn't a good person, I could have done it years ago. When I saw him care for his wife, I wanted to help for however long they both needed - nothing more."

Piccolo leaned forward with his hands on the table. "Vegeta may have been considered royalty in the past, but he hasn't always been noble. Even now he would disagree that he's anywhere close."

"Piccolo, I have told you everything." Ella set her cup down. "Do whatever you want, but I haven't changed my mind. I knew who and what Vegeta was long before we met. I mean, he looks just like his father. Regardless, either throw my body into an unmarked grave or get out of my sight, because I have work to do here."

"No wonder this family likes you," Piccolo said, raising his hand over his head. A soft, greenish-blue light surrounded Ella. "You are now forbidden from using your empathic abilities to penetrate his mind. This way, neither of you will get hurt. I'm certain that trying to help Vegeta in that would destroy your mind and body first."

"No!" Ella begged. "Please, don't do that to me. _Please_. I have dedicated my entire life to helping the sick and needy - physically and mentally."

"I know you have," Piccolo replied, "and this family has also rewarded you with their trust. Whether you admit it or not, because you're a Tuffle, your personal history creates a conflict. Deep down, you remain curious about your past, which is inseparably linked to Vegeta's past. That said, because you do genuinely care, I believe you can do just as much for good him without using your empathic abilities.

"Earth's guardian and the kamis have a vested interest in keeping this family line strong for infinite reasons, Ella. We want Vegeta to live longer to support that outcome, as his wife wanted for him." Piccolo looked back and nodded respectfully. "Trunks will return soon, so I will leave now. Take care of yourself."

Ella finished her tea and continued preparing Vegeta's food. She decided then not to mourn what Piccolo took from her. No one ever discussed Earth's guardian or the kamis in casual conversation. It was almost considered blasphemous. There was a lot more at stake than she realized. She hoped her adopted planet wouldn't see another grave threat in this lifetime.

She reflected on all of this while sitting at Vegeta's bedside awaiting any response from him. She knew better than to touch him at first. Her first priority was re-establishing trust. Darkly, at this point she thought almost any sign of life from the prince would be good, short of being murdered. If he were feeling better, they would probably snicker together about that gruesome thought. He had to be willing to listen to her and not feel judged. Then she corrected herself: Vegeta rarely cared about anyone else's opinion of him beyond his family members, and now even they were having trouble reaching him.

"Your granddaughter told me that you greeted her, and I see you finished the water she brought earlier." She smiled faintly at him. "Good. Now, can you sit up and have more? You should stay hydrated, and I am extending my generosity by bringing you something."

As gentle as it was, Ella's voice turned Vegeta's stomach. His nausea worsened each time someone entered his room speaking in hushed tones. Sonali's singing helped him feel better earlier that day, but even that contact left him more exhausted. He had to shut down some of his body's response to outside stimulation. The sensations and physical pain had begun to overwhelm him.

Ella took a deep breath. Now she had to touch him. Piccolo had to have known that her empathic abilities extended to physical contact. She wondered why he left those intact. What could they do for Vegeta that connecting to his mind wouldn't?

"Let's get you cleaned up a bit, Vegeta. How about I give you a shave? You don't have to leave the bed."

Vegeta grabbed her arm in midair. "Get out."

* * *

 **Once again, I couldn't bring myself to breaking up these passages. This chapter was tough to write for various reasons. Complicated grief is difficult to portray in a character like Vegeta. My reference was his deadly altercation with Frieza during the Frieza Saga, when he poured his heart out not only to Goku, but also to the world.**


	15. Memory Loss

**This one is a little shorter. Will try to publish a longer one when the stars align. :)**

* * *

Gathering herself, Ella quietly cleared her throat as their arms hung in the air. Vegeta's hand was frigid and damp, almost feeling reptilian. His head faced her from the bed, but his eyes were partially closed, and what could be seen of them almost appeared like they had been covered by cataracts. His normally sonorous voice was low but disturbingly jarring and constricted, as if a noose were slowly tightening around his neck.

"You don't mean that, Vegeta."

"Who _are_ you?"

Ella's large brown eyes collapsed. "I… am your friend," she stammered. It was clear now that Vegeta's condition had deteriorated further, but the old nurse remained convinced that he wouldn't harm her or himself. What else had he forgotten? It had only been hours since other family members were there with him.

"I have no friends." His arm lowered until Ella could safely loosen hers from his grip. "I am alone."

"Why do you say that? I am here with you."

"I don't know who you are," Vegeta said. "I… don't know you."

"You are my friend," Ella replied softly. "You helped me once. I am only here to help you, dear. I won't hurt you."

"Everything hurts," he shook his head. "Everything hurts. Where is my Bulma?"

Heartbreaking as it was, Ella felt encouraged that she could prolong conversation with him. Vegeta apparently recognized something familiar on a deeper level as he struggled for clarity, or maybe her simple questions and the kindness in her voice were particularly soothing. While everyone else was concerned about mental decomposition, the worst being the deep depression, Ella's immediate concern was emerging dissociative amnesia because of Vegeta's abnormal responses. Granted, his confusion and irritability could come from malnutrition or another illness from his weakened condition. It was too early to tell, but Ella's instincts rarely failed her.

She was still a medical professional, though. Instinct wasn't the standard-bearer for making a proper diagnosis. Personal history, data-gathering, tests, and closer observations are required to diagnose patients. Her empathic abilities focused on the whole person. She was no healer, and she didn't use her gifts with every patient. Ethically, she should've disclosed what she was doing years ago at her job. She would've likely had support from other workers - Earth had a number of shamans who played similar roles - but she didn't want the attention and questions about her past that would have emerged inevitably. As she recognized it, her role was to support the healing process, whether her actions led to recovery, partial recovery, or a peaceful death. Some patients desired her touch only, once she offered it, even if they couldn't say it. She often knew beforehand who longed for it the most.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" she said, leaning closer. "Maybe you'll recognize me if you can see me clearly."

 _If Vegeta is experiencing dissociative memory loss, how much of his autobiography has been altered or impaired already? Would some pieces of his past, maybe the worst parts, be retained and re-enacted if he fully wakes up? Are there multiple sources of trauma contributing to this?_ All of these questions flooded her brain. The condition was rarely permanent, but some sufferers had also been known to assume new identities. Ella's theory seemed to fit why Vegeta hadn't killed himself outright, thankfully. The prince was too proud to go that route unless it served a greater purpose. Amnesia, if he suffered from it, could be a form of self-punishment to eliminate his personal identity, instead of committing suicide.

Vegeta breathed wearily as if a weight lay on his chest. Ella wanted him in hospital for her own peace of mind, but she had the tools to support his basic needs there, so she connected him to an IV. Then she painstakingly cleaned him again in his bed. Afterward, she held his hands between hers and closed her eyes. At first she felt overwhelmed by the emotional rivers coursing through him. Some were quiet and linear. Others were crooked and raging. Water crashed violently against rocks in various places. The calmer tributaries that should've provided peace felt lonely and empty. She had trained herself not to cry during these intimate moments with other patients. This was particularly hard, but their connection calmed his roiling mind.

He was still reachable.

"You remain here for a reason, Vegeta," she whispered. "You would be dead by now if you willed it. You are being unfair to yourself and to your loved ones. This is not a judgment. It is a fact. You are loved, my friend."

He returned to sleep.

Trunks entered the room in his white meditation clothing. Seeing Ella holding his father's hands late into the night moved his heart. For not being immediate family, her compassion almost seemed unreal. After many years, Vegeta now had people in his life who would fight and die _for him_ , but within that small, loyal circle of lifelong friends he still kept emotional distance. Had these two really become that close without his mother noticing?

"How is he, Ella?" Trunks sat down next to her. Seeing the IV was enough of an answer.

She sighed. "You do not feel it?"

"I do." Trunks placed his hand on the side of the bed. "I was looking for reassurance, I guess. This can't go on much longer. He's one step below being catatonic. It's time to bring our doctors into this, as you said."

Ella patted his leg. "I agree that your father should be in a clinical setting for monitoring and nutrition, which you can do privately, but I don't believe the standard treatments would help his overall condition. This goes beyond depression."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe Vegeta is losing parts of his memory."

"You mean dementia?" Trunks frowned. "Isn't that a gradual disease?"

"No, Trunks." Ella stood and walked toward the door. "I mean amnesia. Come. It's time that I share some things with you."

* * *

It was approaching 3 a.m., and Trunks sat smoking another cigar on the indoor porch. Ella sat across from him in a rocking chair. They were both drinking tea. His rigid silence would have likely unsettled another person, but the woman was unfazed.

"I want to throw you out on the street, but I can't bring myself to yet," he said. "I can only imagine what my father would say - that I'm too soft."

"Perhaps he would," Ella said impassively, "or he would trust your judgment."

Trunks blew smoke ringlets into the air. "You should thank Piccolo."

"I suppose partial thanks might be in order since I'm still breathing," Ella said.

Trunks tapped cigar and leaned forward. "You and the rest of Earth would've been destroyed had my father, Goku, Gohan, and Piccolo not stopped a surviving Tuffle scientist from destroying humanity - and especially every last living Saiyan. I was barely a toddler when it happened."

"Your suspicions about me are justified," Ella replied, pouring more tea. "I don't know, I suppose I could be a sleeper Tuffle terrorist programmed to finish the job more than 25 years later, but I've never seen you embrace absurdity in your judgments."

Trunks' jaw tightened. "The sheer power and hatred they battled against were formidable. We still wonder if another life form created by your race hunts us. Had you known about this event, where would your loyalties have been then?"

Ella looked at her watch. "This is getting us nowhere, Trunks. Mistrust my intentions all you want, but I have had enough. _Vegeta needs someone to reach him mentally_ _now -_ not just through medication or some other therapy. Piccolo wouldn't have stopped me unless he or someone else had another person in mind. It must be you."

Trunks continued blowing smoke from his cigar. He didn't look at her.

"It just makes sense," she continued. "Perhaps you don't realize how important your bloodline is to the Kamis and Earth's guardian. Who knows what the future holds, but your friend Piccolo stressed it. _Telling me of all people was no accident_. Losing Vegeta in any way right now isn't an option. He still has a role to play."

"What did you feel when you touched him?" Trunks said, taking another sip of tea.

Ella became meditative. "I felt a lonely man on a cliff watching a powerful waterfall break up into unknown rivers and streams, some that may dry up permanently. Do you understand what that metaphor means?"

"Yes."

"Do you, Trunks? Your passivity disturbs me."

Candlelight shadows flickered across the furrowed creases of Trunks' mouth and forehead. "I can't believe your nerve. _Don't you dare judge me._ You drop multiple bombs in my lap and expect me not to feel shell shock?"

Ella slammed her fists on the patio table. "Now is not the time for self-pity, damn it! Rise to the fucking challenge, young man. Your father deserves that!"

"He blocked me telepathically a while ago, and you need to watch yourself ordering me to do anything." Trunks' teacup and saucer crumbled to dust as his eyes locked with hers. "This is my first and _only_ polite warning to stop."

Ella crossed her arms. "You can find a way to reach him. You must."

"Leave." Trunks wiped the glass dust into his ashtray. He was ambivalent about Ella's presence, perhaps even jealous that she reached Vegeta enough to comfort him. Now it's his sole responsibility to continue pursuing what he had already failed to do? He felt terrible thinking it, but maybe it would be better if the prince died honorably rather than to emerge as a shell of his former self. Trunks couldn't believe Vegeta wanted this outcome, and he was enraged. How could he? _How dare he._ It almost felt like betrayal.

 _"A strong man stands above and conquers all!"_ his father always said. The prince drilled it into him from childhood.

"I'm tired and need to think, Ella. You can stay in my home until we move my father, but afterward it's best to distance yourself. I won't tell anyone else why."

Undeterred, Ella returned to her seat to pour more tea. "Do as you wish, but I'm not leaving this porch until _I finish_ talking. Tell me why you hesitate? You're as close as any father and son could ever be. I'm still an empath, and I still care for you. Your attempt at stoicism can't hide the fear I sense in you - and perhaps shame too. Why are you afraid?"

Trunks averted his eyes. "Ella, please. I am not…"

"The hell you aren't, Trunks," she interrupted. "Stop it."

"Ella, I thought speaking to my father mentally would be enough to bring him out. Coaxing him to allow further access to his mind and emotions was never a consideration for me. Who in their right mind would want that anyway? It's an invasion of privacy. Piccolo told you as much."

"Correction, Piccolo said _I can't do it_ ," Ella pointed out. "You're frightened of what else Vegeta's mind might reveal. Consider that everything you witness may not accurately show what really happened. His views of himself may have fractured certain memories and visions."

Trunks returned his gaze to the darkness. "I have lived through enough of my father's ups and downs in real time since boyhood, and I have finally come to terms with it. I'm a good father, husband, and son. I have chosen to follow in Vegeta's footsteps when I could do almost anything else with my life. _With all due respect, you don't know shit about what we've been through_. After all of our training and fighting together, his demanding lectures, and steeling myself each time he faced death, I have a right to be ambivalent. I love my father, and this hurts in ways I can't begin to explain. I know enough."

* * *

Trunks' flashbacks enveloped him. He always heard every sound, felt himself flying, experienced every punch, and relived every tear he shed. He would be strong, just like his father.

 _"You are my only son and I haven't held you once since you were a baby, have I? Come here son."_

 _"Dad, what's wrong?"_

 _"Trunks, there's something you must know. You've made me proud, my son."_

Trunks stood next to that little boy, who was grinning ear-to-ear from within his father's solemn, loving embrace. The boy didn't know about the sacrifice his father would make. After their encounter with Majin Buu, that boy accepted that the prince of all Saiyans might not return alive from a future battle one day. This was the brave, rugged, determined man Trunks knew his father to be.

* * *

Ella's face reddened as she wiped her eyes. "Okay, well consider this. If you can't do it for Vegeta, then do it for your mother."

"You've crossed a line," Trunks motioned at the door. "Leave me now. Thank you for what you've done for my family." He stood and took her hand in his. "I know you care for us, but I've heard enough."

After she left, Trunks considered watching the sunrise but instead returned to his room. He sat on the bedside next to his wife, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

"Did being out all night help?" Sonali said sleepily. At first he didn't seem to hear her, so she nudged him. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I can't see all of it, Sonali." He leaned forward with his face in his hands, sobbing. "I don't want to know all of it. I don't want to see visions of his past. I want him here with us, but I can't do this. Why has he allowed this to happen? He's stronger than this. Am I wrong to feel like he's being selfish?"

"It's okay," Sonali pulled his head into her lap. "We'll get through this, just like you told Vegeta the day your mother died. Just lay here with me."

Sonali didn't understand what triggered his breakdown, but she knew her husband needed to face the problem head-on to make peace with himself. _He couldn't have lost all empathy for his poor father within the span of a day. That doesn't make sense.  
_  
Trunks closed his eyes and sighed as Sonali massaged his head. "Ella thinks that he's experiencing something called dissociative memory loss. He already doesn't remember her. She seems to believe it's some sort of self-punishment alternative to suicide. It's absurd."

"I know of it," Sonali said quietly. "It's a trauma-based response, Trunks, and as a nurse Ella knows memory loss could result from a number of clinical conditions. This disorder is reversible, although it may take more time for some people to recover. Honey, Vegeta may be traumatized by Bulma's death for some time. You know that."

Trunks stood and walked to the other side of the room. "This isn't my father! I understood his despair over mother's illness and supported them every step of the way. He's never given up, though. He still has powers at his age that other beings would murder to have. He isn't a quitter. It's torture having us watch him go down like this. He's choosing this, Sonali."

Sonali lowered her dark eyes to avoid appearing judgmental, yet she also felt disappointed. " _Trunks_ , just listen to yourself. Is he really choosing? Have you stopped to think that Vegeta is in a special kind of hell right now - one that you can't begin to fathom? Possible amnesia or not, keep in mind that he's holding on just like you said yesterday. Remember?"

Trunks removed his clothing to shower. "There's more to this situation than you realize," he said flatly.

Sonali tied her hair into a bun. "Then make it plain."

* * *

 **Maybe it's unfair to ask more of Trunks right now - or maybe not. Turning his back on his father isn't an option, though. I also tried to address some writing style issues for clarity. Comments! Would love to hear them!**


	16. Choices for Life

**Recap: Trunks, his wife Sonali, and the rest of the family are grasping for a solution to rescue Vegeta from a fading mental state, which may be fatal if it continues. Ella, a retired nurse and family friend who revealed that she is a Tuffle, tried using her empathic and telepathic abilities to reach the Saiyan prince, who is deeply mourning his wife Bulma's death from natural causes. Piccolo, the mystical Namekian who has his own plans to help, sidelined Ella's efforts from concern about potential Vegeta's reaction. Now, Trunks must decide on the tough choices offered to him.**

* * *

Sonali sat alone in the dining room drinking coffee. It was early afternoon, and Trunks had been sleeping soundly before she left their bedroom, finally, which helped his wife feel more at ease. She had been humming a funeral dirge to herself. Smiling wistfully, she imagined Bulma rolling her eyes with disapproval for being so maudlin. Then she looked at the family photo from Bulla's wedding – her family, the one she dreamed of having for years before meeting Trunks.

"I won't stay like this forever, Bulma," she said tearfully. "I promised I would rise to the challenge."

"And you are, child," Ella said softly, holding a plate of pastries. "You are."

Embarrassed, Sonali quickly wiped her face. "How long have you been by the door?"

Ella smiled. "Sonali, just because your husband is sleeping late – thank goodness - doesn't give us permission to lose track of time or the presence of others."

The young woman chuckled. "You sound as ornery as Vegeta. Yeah, I suppose we don't have permission. God knows he'd be bellowing the same if he were feeling better." She reached for Ella's hand. "I…don't want you to leave."

"So Trunks told you everything," Ella said evenly. "That's good. I didn't say you had to stop crying, though. You need to. Caring for yourself is just as important as helping others." She looked down. "I am glad I could help here somewhat. Trunks is within his right to have me leave, regardless of how I feel about it."

Agitated, Sonali tied her hair back. "I tried convincing him otherwise. I may not understand everything, but he can't make unilateral decisions like this. There's too much at stake. I'm afraid that the tighter he holds to doing things his way, the less beneficial it is for my father-in-law's recovery." She knew Ella was trying to be tough, but the glint in the woman's eyes was obviously one of deep sadness.

"Sonali, listen to me. Trunks is still his father's son, with a healthy dose of Vegeta's stubbornness and sense of purpose. I recall Bulma tried to impress that truism on you, yes? Until now, you two haven't had the emotional upheavals his parents had before and after they married."

"I know, but…"

"Do you really?" Ella said, raising her eyebrow.

Sonali considered how much Trunks hadn't said over the years. He did tell her everything within the confines of their frank relationship, as she had explained to Vegeta. But her husband had boundaries that even she couldn't cross, and Trunks explained why he wouldn't share certain thoughts. He had been honest about his limitations, so his wife largely respected them - but this was different.

"I won't let him shut me out, like…" She stopped, looking ashamed. "Never mind."

Wondering when Trunks would enter, Ella nodded toward the kitchen door. Sonali turned as he approached the table with another pot of coffee. Both women took a long look until Trunks rubbed his chin. At first he wondered how terrible he truly appeared. Obviously he needed a shave. He also hadn't changed from his bedclothes. That didn't help. Regardless, he had heard enough. His wife had to stop conflating his grief and stress with depression - or maybe he was in denial about that too.

"Finish your thought, Sonali," he said. "You won't let _me_ shut you out, _like my father_."

She took his hand while he seated himself. "I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to hear that."

Trunks nodded at Ella. "Like my mother and Ella said, we're on winding road together now, which will be tougher to navigate at times. But I trust that we'll be okay, just like my parents were for years. If anything, they graciously set the stage for us to learn from their relationship – warts and all."

"Maybe you should return to bed," Sonali said as Ella pushed back from the table. "Your eye circles are darker than I've ever seen them."

Trunks shook his head. "It's afternoon. You normally wouldn't accept me sleeping for more than a day unless I was ill - or if I trained with Vegeta for weeks without rest. Also, Ella, please sit back down. You don't have to clear the plates now - or leave our home. I want you to see my children when Bulla brings them back tomorrow." Surprised, both Sonali and Ella stared curiously at him.

"But why?" Ella asked. "Are you sure?" While pleased, she felt uncomfortable but kept the concern hidden from her face.

"No offense, Ella," Sonali said, "but would you leave us for now?" She would not allow Trunks' latter statement pass without argument.

Ella nodded. The older woman instantly recognized that a battle was imminent. "Of course," she said. "No offense taken - and, Trunks, stop provoking your wife unnecessarily." She gave him a knowing look, appreciative that he took their earlier conversation about Vegeta's condition to heart. Now came the hard part. She suspected that Piccolo had more planned from the moment he disabled her powers.

After the door closed, Trunks quickly grabbed Sonali's arm before she could leave the table. "Let me explain…"

Shaking her head, Sonali pulled away. "Let me go," she said angrily. "Trunks Brief, you can't say anything to make me less furious than I am now! _This where I draw my line_. Did you suddenly forget what you just said about learning from your parents? Maybe I don't want _our children_ back here yet, at least not until we move their grandfather. We're still a team, right – or maybe you want to renegotiate the contract? If so, then do it like an adult! I didn't sign up for having my husband dominate all decision-making."

"I don't think we should move father now," Trunks said quietly. "I changed my mind. I want him with us at home, like I said before. Everything that can be done at hospital can happen here, though Ella would prefer otherwise. I know I treated her poorly, so I want her to manage his physical care. She might feel better. Also, I still believe the fewer people involved the better. That includes our private medical team."

Sonali's face dropped into her hands. "Sweetheart, I am really trying here. Before going to sleep, you said you wanted to hospitalize dad. Bulla has put complete trust in your decision-making about his care now because you demanded it – though she's equally entitled to contribute - but you _cannot_ carry the emotional burden alone. It's unhealthy. I feel like I've lost my parents as well, and everyone in the family loves you so very much, along with your parents' friends. Lean on us more. I can't say I'll agree with every single decision about Vegeta's care, but I'm not the enemy. We can work things through."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Trunks said. He kissed the back of Sonali's hand, prompting a long sigh from her. "I guess I need to get dressed. Maybe we can have dinner somewhere else to talk."

"You haven't hurt me yet," Sonali replied, "but I am going outside for a while. We can discuss the children when I return. Have you asked Bulla yet?"

"No, but I'll have her bring them around 8 p.m. tomorrow. You mind if she stays for dinner?"

Sonali waved her hand dismissively. "Now you're just being ridiculous. Have her husband come, too. I want the kids in bed as soon as their food digests, though. It's later than I'd prefer for them to eat heavy meals, and I can't see Ella not making a heavy dinner despite anyone's protests."

* * *

Indeed, Trunks was fortunate to have his wife. He picked up the family pictures from his and Bulla's weddings, reflecting on the broad smiles and laughing faces. Vegeta was the least expressive, of course, but a few photos stood out. Dressed elegantly in their tuxedos, father and son smirked with pride and mischief as they faced each other. Their hands were firmly placed on opposite shoulders. The picture had been taken at Bulla's wedding. Both had told their wives later that it was a favorite. They never told each other.

These thoughts weighed heavily on Trunks as he considered his children's welfare. He now believed unequivocally that his kids should be by their grandfather's side. It didn't matter that Vegeta was unresponsive. He and Sonali were there to help the twins feel safe. Their daughter had been right: He didn't have to shelter them and they should be allowed to help when possible. He certainly wasn't sheltered as a boy from hardships. If Vegeta died and the twins weren't there to say goodbye, it would likely hurt them as much as…

"You never forget that first time, when you're wondering if you did something wrong," a sympathetic voice said from behind.

Trunks slowly turned around. He had already sensed the visitor's presence long before the man entered. "I swear, Gohan, it's amazing how effortlessly people walk into my home without calling first. You could be possessed by a demon with ten eyeballs and tentacles or something, and I would be shit out of luck trying to defend myself. "

The men clutched each other's fists and laughed. Their voices were deep and strong, much like their fathers. "Oh, stop your whining, brat," Gohan said. "Where's your Saiyan pride?"

Trunks leaned against the wall, pointing down at his leg. "See right here, man? My pride is in this foot that I will put up your ass if you continue hounding me. I would prefer that you didn't see me in this fluffy robe, though. Not quite the image I want to project."

"All jokes aside, I know _that_ look, Trunks. I had it when my father tried to save all of us from Cell, when I was 11. I knew then he wouldn't be there to watch me grow up. It was the worst feeling. Later, I remember Bulma cradling you in her arms, crying with me and Krillin and mom."

Trunks pushed the plate of pastries over to him. "Yeah, I was barely a toddler, and my father was never the same afterward."

Gohan motioned for Trunks to sit. "He wasn't, and he kept looking at you, the kid he never thought he'd have. I hoped back then that you would never see anything happen to Vegeta like that up close, and you didn't."

"God, I felt it, though, when father fought Majin Buu and wouldn't let me and your brother help him. It nearly destroyed my spirit when mom and I found later out how he sacrificed himself."

Their walk down memory lane was necessary, Gohan thought, considering what he had planned. "The reality is we know who they are – who they've always been - and we know who we are. Our priorities build off the path they laid. Furthermore, from day one, Vegeta has felt responsible for preparing you for his death, so that you could carry on - and lead."

Trunks sipped on his coffee. "I suppose he did."

Gohan gave Trunks a hard stare. "You _know_ he has." His visceral reaction startled them both slightly, but he wouldn't accept his friend's wallowing in self-pity. Not on his watch. He recalled his talk with Vegeta in the woods before Bulma died. The elder Saiyan had entrusted Trunks' welfare to him, though he didn't say so directly. It was implied.

Trunks felt an anxious, irritated tightening in his chest. Gohan had always been a mentor. "You're sending mixed messages. You know damn well that you wouldn't let Goku slowly kill himself without good reason. This isn't a noble move. I have every right to be angry with my father, despite what my wife and just about everyone else say."

"Look, Trunks, I get it. Be angry. That's fine, but what will happen if Vegeta overcomes his current condition? He still might not be one-hundred percent well. Will you help him not feel ashamed? How will you deal with him possibly feeling resentment? That's what happens with depressed people who consider suicide. Stop thinking about yourself here and put yourself in his shoes."

"My mother would have never accepted this from him, and she certainly wouldn't have done it herself, no matter the circumstance!" Trunks said with indignation.

"That's bullshit!" Gohan argued back. " _She had thought about it_ , and Vegeta pulled her from that black hole, at her lowest point, to continue physical therapy. Your parents may have disagreed about other things later, but he was empathetic as much as he could be. He tended to her tirelessly and with heartfelt emotion. You witnessed every moment." Even now, Gohan also had a remarkable ability to be exceedingly empathetic, often breaking through others' sturdiest emotional defenses.

Trunks wanted to leave the room, but he couldn't. He nodded partially over to rub his forehead. "Give me a break," he replied wearily. "I'm not that self-centered, and please stop with the lawyer's interrogation. I just… need him, you know? I know I'm not a child, but I feel like he's just left us. Mom always said, 'He's the good man I knew he could be.' If there ever was a time in my adult life that I really need more of his wisdom and friendship, it's now. Same goes for my sister. He knows that."

Gohan nodded, recalling how he felt during Goku's absences. "I know. I know you do."

"I'm not idealizing father either," Trunks continued. "I know enough about his past. Many men wouldn't have been courageous enough to discuss it like that with their kid. But, as I got older, I also realized that he didn't have some words to describe the absolute worst of it – horrors that I'm okay not knowing."

Gohan waved at Piccolo to enter. "Do you want to help your father or not, Trunks?" the Namekian asked with his usual matter-of-fact delivery. "I meditated with you last night to ease your spirits and open your mind. It's time that you regain full clarity, and Gohan and I are here to support you."

Gohan glanced at the side window. "How soon will Sonali return?"

Trunks shrugged. "We argued, so she's trekking in the woods to cool off. I'd give her about another half hour. Are you suggesting that we speak without her? I'm not sure that would be the best idea today, not after what happened between us."

"Not entirely," Piccolo said, "but I understand your concern. I'll try to be succinct: There is possibly another way to reach Vegeta, through the mystic arts. Dende and I wouldn't normally encourage this option for most mortals, but your father isn't just anyone, and his mental decomposition must end. Modern medicine won't help him now, other than keeping him barely alive in a vegetative state, until he dies. My senses confirm this outcome. I suspect yours do too. Now is the time to act."

Trunks lowered his eyes, but not from sadness or fear. "How dangerous is it?"

"It involves astral projection," Piccolo said. "Traveling within one part of the spirit realm."

"You would be projecting your conscious mind and soul outside of your body," Gohan continued. "This would give you a chance to reach Vegeta within that space. You could not read his mind, but Piccolo can help you push what's left of his consciousness into the realm as well. For lack of a better description, you would be shocking him into a response."

Piccolo searched Trunks' face for any signs of distress before resuming. "The dangers are these: If you do not exit during the time window provided, then your physical bodies left here on Earth could die. Your mortal, astral selves would be trapped in the realm, where they would likely be overtaken and used for other purposes by its overseers. You also could die outright while there… by your father's hand."

"Continue," Trunks said. He wouldn't allow Piccolo's comment to upset him. If he chose this option, then his belief had to be rock-solid that Vegeta wouldn't kill him - that he couldn't kill him - no matter how addled the prince's mind was.

"Vegeta could emerge in a mental condition where he doesn't recognize you at first," Gohan said. "He might see you as a past threat he's encountered and respond accordingly - or reveal terrible things."

"He would fight," Trunks said.

Gohan glanced at the window again. "Yes, but that doesn't mean that you couldn't jolt him out of it. Doing so would likely require restraining him. You must come prepared with memory triggers and voice them based on what he says to you."

"And you would not be alone," Piccolo said, redirecting his attention to Trunks. "That is if you want to go through with the plan."

Trunks paused at first. "What do you mean I wouldn't be alone?" His eyes widened as the shock hit. He immediately looked at Gohan and shook his head in protest. "No. You can't. I can't allow you. No."

"Yes, I will be there to help you," Gohan said, smiling warmly. "Besides my father, we both know Vegeta _,_ _the_ _Saiyan warrior_ , better than anyone."

* * *

 **Notes: Special thanks to a kind reader who nudged me recently to continue. This story has been shelved for a while, so thanks to everyone who returned to read!**


	17. Leveling the Playing Field

**Recap: Trunks and Sonali are prepared to decide on a risky plan to help Vegeta recover. Family and friends are gathered around, while one person unexpectedly demands to take matters into his own hands.**

* * *

Bulla and Sonali sat next to each other at Vegeta's bedside awaiting for their dinner guests' arrival. Gohan's family was expected, as well as friend Krillin and his wife, Eighteen. Master Roshi and even Yamcha were attending. Ella had been cooking all day, with some help, to serve a comforting dinner - and just enough wine to calm nerves.

Trunks informed everyone up front that a serious discussion was planned, and everyone knew Vegeta was the topic without needing to hear more. The friends had been through numerous trials, battling foes together and separately. Still, after Bulma's death they hoped that the world return to normal for a while. The absence of her commanding, loving presence left a void in their hearts and minds. Being older wasn't a death sentence for the generation preceding Gohan and Trunks, especially in Roshi's case given his partial immortality, but the reality that Bulma wouldn't return _this time_ gave them pause. No guarantee existed that, after death, they would see each other before their souls moved to places intended for them. They could only yearn that celestial powers would graciously grant them time together "once everyone croaked," Krillin joked. They would wait.

Bulma's youth was peppered with moments that Krillin, Goku, Yamcha, and Roshi conveniently avoided discussing outside of their group. _She was racy when she chose to be_ , and, for good or ill, sometimes used her physical assets to exit situations – or control them. She had crushes, liked good-looking men, and enjoyed sex. She punched out guys whose advances went too far without her permission. She also had a longtime boyfriend for years, to whom she remained faithful – until Vegeta came along and _she_ rocked his world. All it took was an invitation... to move in:

 _"Hey, loosen up! You're going to need a place to crash, too."_

 _"Hn."_

 _"Hey, why don't you drop the arrogant, tough guy act and just relax, let it all go, take a vacation for goodness sake? Unwind a little and see what life has to offer you. You're actually kind of cute."_

 _"What? I'm not…kind of… oh, shut up."_

Whereas some women would've been ashamed and ridiculed, beating themselves up emotionally for some mistakes _forever_ , Bulma reached adulthood having learned more about herself. Vegeta had been the linchpin. He was her best and worst teacher about true love. Before her first pregnancy, the hot-tempered prince had fallen hard for the vivacious nymph with the cerulean eyes and dazzling smile because…she was kind to him. No one had been open to him like _that_ , ever. Their arguments could be heated, but she always seemed to know what he needed. Under no uncertain terms, and despite loving him, she would never clamor for him, though – and, boy, Vegeta knew it. She had their child to raise and would manage without him dragging her down. Each time he stepped up and took on more responsibilities, she expressed appreciation without fawning. He would've hated that anyway. She still made time to listen when he needed to talk. She stopped trying to figure him out. He tried to figure her out. Then their hearts united.

* * *

"I'm glad we're coming together earlier," Bulla whispered to Sonali. "The twins handled seeing daddy well, despite the medical equipment in here." Together, they kissed Vegeta's forehead before entering the room next door.

Sonali squeezed her hand. "They did, sweetie. I think they're doing better than we are."

"Yeah, well, they look up to him so much. They just want him to be okay. They don't see his condition like my brother and I have – that he's intentionally hurting himself and that it's selfish in some ways."

"In other words, not judging him," Sonali said.

"Yes." Bulla's cheeks filled with air, which slowly trickled out as she gathered her thoughts. "But I know he's not being selfish. He's been my hero for so long, Sonali. He's lived a better life than anyone could have predicted, which he said at Nightingale. Mom helped him find his true voice in innumerable ways - and I'm not as naïve as everyone thinks. I know daddy had depressive spells even after I was born. I now understand how he could promise to be around for us and then reconsider it all."

"You go ahead to the dining room," Sonali said. "I need to freshen up again before we eat." She returned to the master bedroom when Bulla disappeared from view. Trunks was dressed in a crimson dinner jacket with gold buttons. The style wasn't overly formal, but it did exude a "head of the household" manner. Sonali hugged him from behind, as she typically did, until they kissed.

"You ready?" he asked.

She stepped back, gesturing for him to brush her hair. "Your mother said I would have to adjust to the omnipresent threat of danger with you. I can't say that I ever expected to consider what we've decided on here. I can't say that I'm not terrified and don't have mixed feelings. You're my husband, and I believe our children understand – but, my god, I wish there was another way to help Vegeta. We could lose you both, Trunks."

Trunks brushed Sonali's hair with broad strokes to relax her. "You won't. If father and I battled another threat, we wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice ourselves for each other… or the greater good. You know that. He won't hurt me."

"What about Gohan and his family? They don't know that he's offered to help yet. They might be terribly angry. What if they think we're trying to manipulate them into agreeing he should go?"

"First, the Son family isn't easily manipulated. Both Gohan and Goten have been good friends. Videl and Pan are amazing – and, well, you know what Goku thinks about challenges. If they all clearly say Gohan shouldn't go, then he won't - and I'm fine with that. "

Sonali took the brush from him to finish. "What about Chi Chi? I can't see her agreeing."

Trunks brought her closer as they put on their wedding rings. "You should give her more credit. She's always disliked father, but she appreciated my mother. I suspect that she won't fight her family's wishes. Gohan has been in harm's way many times. We all have." He lifted her chin gently. "Like you said, Vegeta is holding on."

Goku had seemed the most at ease when he finally arrived - maybe. He was late, which everyone expected - especially his family. The discussion had already commenced. Questions were being asked across the dinner table. Though Ella was tight-lipped, she was seething. Piccolo's plan sounded far more dangerous. She had wanted to try something different with Trunks using her abilities. Regardless of the outcome, her attempt wouldn't risk multiple lives, had Piccolo not interfered. That said, until then, she hadn't known that this different spirit realm existed, unlike Roshi and Piccolo. Fighting against anyone with that sacred knowledge was unwise, and it was assumed that the conversation would remain confidential.

Gohan, who left an open seat next to him, handed his father four stacks of meat piled high. After looking over the platter, Goku rejected it, shocking everyone into deafening silence. Stone-faced, Piccolo interlaced his fingers and leaned forward. For Goku's part, no smile had washed yet over his normally friendly face. Chi Chi crossed her arms, appearing that she, too, knew what would happen next. Trunks stayed quiet. Sonali started to talk until he touched underneath the table to wait.

"Dad, Piccolo, what's going on?" Goten asked.

Goku grabbed Gohan's shoulder. "Not this time, son. Not you either, Trunks. No."

Not missing a beat, Roshi loosened his shirt to address his former martial arts student. "What make _you_ think that you'll do so much _better_ , Goku?"

"Because, like me, Vegeta has lived for challenges in ways that none of you will fully understand," Goku said. "I say that with no disrespect. As our sons, you both know this, even as you follow in our footsteps. You have your own ways to make in this world. If there's anyone who can push Vegeta hardest, it's me. We are peers."

Piccolo stood. "Goku, I told you about this before everyone else out of respect, and I understand your concerns, but…"

"I'm not _worried_ about Trunks or Gohan being hurt," Goku interrupted. "Besides Bulma, I have helped Vegeta redefine pieces of his life too. Have we been mutually selfish at times, especially as we confronted each other? Definitely. He's also grown in ways that still I struggle with. I admire and respect him. Boys, I will go. We will bring each other back alive. Vegeta may not be whole in the way we all want, but you can help him from there."

Unexpectedly, Krillin stood as well, dropping his napkin to confront his childhood friend. "You patronizing ass. That's right, I said it! Recall that it was _your son_ , Yajirobe, and _me_ who saved you when we confronted Vegeta in Break Wasteland. Recall that it was your barely teenage son who saved Vegeta from a shocking blow that would have killed a grown man when we fought Cell! I can't say I'm comfortable with their plan at all, but you should get over yourself!"

Trunks' fist slammed on the table. "Stop it, all of you!" This time Sonali tugged on his clothing, shaking her head. For some reason, she believed this needed to happen.

Krillin raised his arm. "No, Trunks. Before you say anything else, you invited us here to have our say, so I'm having mine. I grew up with you, Goku, so show me the respect _I_ _am due_."

Understanding his friend's implied message, Goku conceded. "Please excuse us, but we must talk outside. Master Roshi, please come too."

"Certainly," Roshi said, bowing respectfully. "You both owe everyone an apology, so make this worth it."

Piccolo approached the back doors after they left. Trunks, Gohan, and their wives followed behind. "Before all of you make up your minds for good, let's hear what Goku and Krillin come up with," he said.

Gohan was incredulous. "Come on, Piccolo…"

"Just wait," he said. "You will learn something, I believe."

"He's right," Yamcha chimed in. "I can guarantee that they always deliver on the learning part."

* * *

Roshi seated himself on the bench in the gazebo, while Goku and Krillin faced each other.

"Tell me why you're so angry," Goku asked. "You know I'm better equipped to handle this."

"You _think_ you are," Krillin retorted. "So Piccolo told you the details earlier. Have you stopped to think that Vegeta may spend most of his time _fighting you_ in whatever state of mind he's in? Yeah, you probably could restrain him at some point of your choosing, but there's still no guarantee that tough, crafty bastard wouldn't best you in some way. Regardless, would that really help pull Vegeta from his decline? What will you do if time runs out? Send his broken consciousness back to his body while your body _dies_?"

Roshi's eyes shifted between the two. "Answer him, Son Goku."

"Master Roshi…"

"Don't appeal to me!" the crusty old man shouted with admonition. "Take responsibility. Address your opponent honorably, as you would with any other."

Goku was angry. He had been chastised without cause, he believed. "You're wrong. This isn't about me."

"The _hell_ it isn't," Krillin countered. "Roshi and I - and even Vegeta, now - are teachers. My friend, you may teach others by _demonstrating_ what you've learned, but you aren't a teacher. Your eldest son has benefited greatly from your actions, training, and competitiveness. None of it negates the fact that, more than once, your arrogance and underestimation of threats have caused just as much trouble. You have cleaned up several messes _you_ created, just as much as Vegeta has – and, at this point in our lives, probably more than him."

Goku stared over their heads into the darkness. "But we have also worked closely together."

Exasperated, Krillin threw up his hands. "Yeah, man, after facing do-or-die situations and having numerous arguments. Look, you've always had a good heart. Your friends wouldn't be loyal if that weren't the case. But trust me on this one. Your ego is tied too much into this – and you may not _win_ in the way you think. Vegeta doesn't need you to be his savior this time. Don't sow doubt in the minds of those men and their families in there, Goku. Consider how your wife, of all people, didn't even run to support you."

Satisfied with his former students' heated colloquy, Roshi cleared his throat to interrupt. "Goku, do you really think Piccolo would support this if he didn't believe that they could succeed? Trust his judgment. While it may be hard to hear, Krillin is absolutely right. What if Vegeta sees himself as Majin again? Gohan and Trunks have a better chance of reaching him precisely because they aren't hard-wired to provoke him, unlike you. You are friends now – yes - but you will _always_ be each other's biggest rivals. Accept it!"

Goku bowed, lowering his head in apology to them. When they returned, he narrated the conversation for everyone, completing his act of contrition. Staring at Trunks and Gohan, Piccolo nodded. "Are we all in agreement here?" A chorus of "yes" echoed through the room.

* * *

The following day, Gohan and Trunks laid on pallets in front of Vegeta's bed. Their wives flanked them, along with Bulla and her husband and Pan. Goku, Goten, and Krillin sat next to Chi Chi. Ella was seated in a corner of the room, keeping her eyes on the medical monitors. Each man was attached to one. Roshi and Piccolo stood beside Vegeta on opposite sides.

"You have approximately six hours to interact with Vegeta in the astral plane," Piccolo said. "That's all I'm given to hold the connection. Don't overestimate. Time passes quickly. No matter how close you think you are to a breakthrough, don't run down the clock to the final minute. Leave during the last half hour if you get that far. You must request to exit for yourselves and Vegeta. You cannot leave otherwise. Also, someone will be waiting when you arrive there shortly."

Trunks raised up. "Who will that be? You didn't say anything about that before."

Piccolo frowned. "You will know once you arrive." He looked around the room. "All of you, this is no time for second thoughts. Banish them. We have done the impossible many times over. Focus."

He placed one hand on Vegeta's forehead, reciting an incantation. A wind gust blew through the room, followed by multicolored bands of light that encircled the bed and the two pallets.

Sonali took Trunks' hand. "Don't screw this up," she said. "Dad and I have a date for a chess game."

He smiled and closed his eyes. "I love you, beautiful. Thank you."

The space they entered seemed boundless. It was also eerily quiet. At first glance, it reminded Gohan of the sacred room spirit and time, where he trained intensely with Goku as a boy. Even the gravity felt heavier.

"Hello, gentlemen," a booming voice said. It seemed to come out of nowhere. "Don't bother to ask who I am, because I won't reveal it. That would be a distraction. Consider yourselves to be my students."

Trunks took a deep breath. "Students?"

"Yes, son of Vegeta. I am the time counter. I cannot interfere in your activities here, other than leveling the playing field between you and the prince. That is my only gift. You will see what he sees as you engage with him – and could battle his adversaries if present. The scenery will adjust to wherever his mind is. Be prepared to adapt quickly. Just because he's reliving certain experiences doesn't mean he will react the way he did before. He also may hallucinate. He could have visions that, while drawn from lived experiences, are entirely untrue."

Another wind gust surrounded Trunks. His clothing changed, but his hair stayed long. Gohan, whose appearance hadn't adjusted, bowed with humility. Trunks followed, but he felt confused.

"I suppose this is a good sign," Gohan said. "If my instincts are right, prepare to meet Cell and your father… as your alternate self who traveled from the future. We'll speak telepathically. Let me guide your words."

The voice faded. "You have six hours."

* * *

 **Notes: Thank you for the enthusiastic comments and kind words. As I was writing this, I kept thinking it's unlikely that Trunks would ever be ready to confront his father in this way, but he's well-equipped to get through it, like Gohan said.**


	18. Be Gone

**Recap: Trunks and Gohan are on the astral plane to confront Vegeta's psychological reckonings. The stage upon which they encounter him is real, and they have a limited amount of time to rescue the prince's mind and spirit from collapsing completely.**

* * *

Now dressed in a blue-and-white Saiyan battle suit, Trunks stood with his muscular arms crossed while surveying the panoramic landscape. Gohan was more concerned about his friend's reaction to the surroundings than himself. Vegeta's mind seamlessly conjured the site where the Z-fighters had battled Cell, right down to the humid wind, gritty dust, and craggy, red-stained limestone rock formations. The mysterious "time keeper" permitted a live, tactile stage, which Gohan actually expected before the setup was announced, but how much they could appeal to Vegeta within this literal dreamscape remained unclear.

Trunks, who hadn't seen a battle suit like his in years, eyed his father's positioning. "How in the hell did I end up in this outfit so quickly - and why aren't you wearing one? I thought this time keeper said it wouldn't interfere."

Gohan glanced downward. "Yeah, man, but it also didn't put limits on how we achieve our goals. The stage is set. We learn as we go."

"I see Krillin and me….and father."

"Yeah," Gohan said, carefully considering the circumstances. "So, apparently, Vegeta's memory is focused strongly on you. I can definitely feel that. Just step into the scene – your body."

Trunks studied his father's ascended Saiyan transformation, as well as his namesake's. Vegeta's expression was wildcat feral - as if he had broken through a cage – and smug. Even then, though, he was strikingly handsome and looked like he was _supposed_ to be there. Watching his father pummel Cell skillfully, without relenting, Trunks felt an electric hunger for battle himself.

He lifted his chin. "Do you think father will ever react to your presence?"

"I suppose, if I willed it forcefully, since your father's subconscious is reactive enough to recognize yours," Gohan said. "Regardless, dad and I were off training during this fight. Your namesake did smart and stupid things… and his outlook was different. He sought Vegeta's paternal approval desperately, from day one. You have long had it. If you can't break through now, then we'll be thrown into another memory, of course - but you and I won't be separated, because we share an independent psychological connection."

Vegeta's emotional demons could manifest in infinite ways. Gohan had been thinking hard about that. How many reconstituted villains would they face, if any? More concerning, what would the prince's energy output be to maintain these defenses? Without question, each confrontation could pose a formidable mode of defense. Regardless of Vegeta's condition, it was unlikely that he would lose his faculties as a master strategist and tactician. Gohan could only hope those abilities would re-enact from where Vegeta _had been_. The warrior's strength and skills presently far surpassed the original emergence of his Super Saiyan powers.

Another issue was Vegeta's infamous cold-bloodedness, followed by earth-shattering destruction of opponents, if he didn't play with them first. Trunks _knew_ his father never would shake these traits completely, but the prospect of seeing the entirety was daunting. The prince was immersed in cruel, vengeful killing, fueled by lifelong mistreatment Frieza and others in the galactic kingpin's criminal network. They dedicated years to break Vegeta's will from childhood "to build him up," attempting to create an unrepentant, brutal "monkey" puppet to do their unquestioned bidding. Their chokehold on his spirit ran deep, but, being Saiyan, he also relentlessly tested his limits while serving them. He had memories and stories about his culture that sustained him through the awfulness. It was his will to rebel, eventually, and he did.

With Trunks taking on his namesake's role, Gohan hoped one past memory wouldn't replay, though, for his friend's sake. Several days before they fought Cell, Vegeta had panned the Z-fighters' strategizing to combat the prophesized cyborgs, created by Goku's lifelong nemesis, Dr. Gero, who was now one himself. Proud of his recent Super Saiyan ascension, Vegeta bellowed that he would destroy the cyborgs alone. Then, when Gero almost killed Bulma and their _infant son_ flying in her plane…

 _"They are not my concern"_ was Vegeta's seemingly callous rapid response to his son from the future, who had bravely warned them all about the dangers everyone faced.  
 _  
_Disgusted, the young man angrily asked why _his father_ didn't move fast enough to help, like he did. _"They could have been killed!"_

Vegeta certainly could've helped, Gohan thought back then, but he later recognized that the story was more complicated. Vegeta was hyper-focused on winning and reclaiming his honor, blinding him during that brief moment before the incident. Since then, the prince had recounted other horrors from his dark past honestly to his present-day son, but Bulma _demanded_ that he never tell Trunks about plane crash. She also demanded compliance _from everyone else_ she knew, and they respected her wishes. She strongly believed that, years later, Vegeta's possession and subsequent destructive, psychotic behavior before Majin Buu's reign of terror were entirely different from the other situation, and that Trunks had suffered enough. After he broke from the spell, Vegeta stamped a loving declaration of pride indelibly on their seven-year-old, before bravely facing death again. Knowing this, Bulma couldn't abide Trunks believing that, as an infant, Vegeta didn't care and would've been relieved had they died.

 _He did care, from the very beginning._ Those hurtful words belied reality. Not responding immediately was unintentional, but the prince couldn't admit that to witnesses. He fucked up terribly and didn't expect Bulma to forgive him anyway. Being alone, unworthy of love, and hated had been his existence. The earthlings beside him fought to live. He had to prove his worthiness to himself – and, eventually, defeat Goku, who literally crushed mountaintops upon which his body and pride stood.

The prince's shame was woven inextricably into his life's narrative _after_ that moment, but, at the very least, he helped the respectful teenager return to future stronger and with more resolve. They had fought an almost insurmountable battle together. Despite his combativeness and cavernous emotional distance, Vegeta taught his son valuable sessions about being a determined warrior and, by proxy, the pitfalls of idealizing anyone.

* * *

Trunks, who had assumed his role, hung back while Vegeta dominated the battle. The younger man had to measure the power radiating from that area. Cell, who had put up a good fight, realized that he couldn't overcome the prince's attacks successfully without assistance. Reaching his "perfect" body form to conquer Vegeta required ingenuity, by using his then-toxic pride against him. Trunks knew the story. His father was steps from doing something stupid and, later, would get his impetuous ass handed to him because of it.

Vegeta's shoulders shook as he laughed and taunted Cell. "You should _see_ the look on your face right now. How would you feel if I told you there was another _like me_? Allow me introduce you to my son. His name is Trunks. _He, too, is a true Super Saiyan_. He's not quite as strong as I am, but it would be hard to tell the difference between us. He has incredible power."

Actually, Trunks' namesake had _surpassed_ his father while training before the battle. Vegeta didn't know then, but his present-day son did. It felt odd, but, much like Cell, at least the young man had something to work with: his father's pride. He wouldn't hold back for Vegeta or this figment from the man's past.

Gohan, who stood on a cliff, touched his temple to speak mentally. _"Don't waste time, Trunks. Get to it."_ Trunks didn't look back.

Cell quaked on the ground while Vegeta continued his harangue, calling the creature's efforts "fruitless," among other insults. Then, the memory sequence sped up. Trunks now found himself on the opposite end of his father's ire and verbal abuse after emerging from underneath a pile of rocks.

" _Wow."_ Trunks frowned. _"That was quick. He didn't even touch me._ "

Gohan had seen it too. _"Your aura is disturbing the playback in Vegeta's mind, Trunks. That's why it's moving quickly. You know what this fight is about. He's focused on Cell reaching his perfect form at any cost, but don't challenge him in the way he remembers it."_

Vegeta smiled with twisted glee as Trunks emerged from the rock mound. The prince had made his point about not interfering with his plans to see if Cell's transformation offered a better challenge. His son had powered up, eyes blazing blue with fury, but he didn't appeal desperately for Vegeta to stop, like the teenage Trunks had.

He just stared at him.

Vegeta's face darkened with suspicion. "What, _boy_? Why are you staring like that? Are you upset that _daddy_ spanked you for being naughty? I hope you learned not to cross me again. You should be as thrilled as I am to see what this creature's power is, since he's bragged so much. Your pathetic feelings still make you weak."

Trunks raised an eyebrow and replied, "Have they now, _old man_? Pride is a feeling too. It can work for or against you."

"What do you know about _true_ pride?!" Vegeta yelled at the top of his lungs. "And who the hell are you to tell me anything about it?! You have much to learn, and I am _graciously_ teaching you. Don't expect more."

"I'm the best person to tell you, father," Trunks said quietly. "I know you better than anyone, except for mom."

Vegeta's face contorted from pain. "Enough! You're babbling!" His aimed straight for Trunks' chest. "Stop it right now!"

Trunks lifted both arms. "Perhaps I am babbling, father. I'll stop now." Within seconds, a jarring flash rocketed from his right hand, cutting Cell in half. The other hand blazed with enough force to blow the creature's head clean off. "You should have done this all along – end it – I know."

Looking confused and ashamed, Vegeta gritted his teeth. His anger was overwhelming. "I _was_ supposed to do this! How did you? Where did that power come from? It wasn't like this before!"

Hopeful, Trunks inhaled. His father had recognized the incongruity. "No, it wasn't, because I'm not him."

"But… but you're are."

"Father, you don't have to relive this," Trunks pleaded. "You won't have to see Cell kill 'me' later. Let go of this memory and come with me. Our family needs you."

Vegeta's arms fell to his sides while stared at the ground. Then he looked up, laughing with vigor and scorn. The rising volume echoed around Trunks, until he smirked. "You're a fool, boy. When will you learn not to cross me? I never _wanted_ a family. _I never wanted you_. You _are_ a distraction. Would you like more torture from me?"

Gohan closed his eyes. _Shit._

"That won't work." Trunks said defiantly. "I know you didn't want me at first, unlike mom. You didn't trust yourself - about whether you could love a child. But, you know, you stayed with us, and _I taught you things about yourself._ "

Trying to clear his mind, Vegeta shook his head. "Go…go away," he said angrily. "You know nothing. I don't know what's happening here, but I _never_ raised you."

 _"Trunks, keep him talking_ ," Gohan said telepathically. _"Something's wrong. Don't let him retreat!"_

Trunks moved in closer. "Father, I figured it out when you told me about your past. It's okay, though. I may have been angry with you about the other things _you did_ , but I know you loved me. You figured it out. You and mom made me into what I am."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed, as if his soul had been invaded by a pack of devils. "You know not of what you speak." He reared back, throwing his arms up. " _Be gone_."

"No, no, no!" Gohan screamed. "Trunks, get out of there now! Don't, Vegeta! Please!" He raced in split seconds toward the intense golden blast that enveloped father and son, which pushed him backward. His heart raced with fear and grief. "What have I done? Oh, god!"

He immediately regretted asking Trunks to continue prodding Vegeta in that way.

He couldn't sense either anymore.

Unexpectedly, the scenery crumbled around Gohan. Gravity pressed down on his back as he fell forward. Recalling meditative lessons from his mentors, he closed his eyes to steady himself. Panic wasn't an option. He had to figure out what happened, because he was responsible.

Gohan soon found himself surrounded by lush vegetation. The terraced mountainsides were covered with beautiful blue-green flora. Crystalline lakes dotted the countryside. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. A black-haired child dressed in simple clothing flew overhead, carrying what appeared to be a Dragon Ball. Gohan raked his fingers through his hair and held his breath. This development had to mean that Vegeta and Trunks were still alive. It had to.

"I'm on Namek," he uttered softly. "I guess I'm the focus now." His eyes shifted as a light wind whistled by him.

"You have five hours left," a voice said.

Gohan was relieved about the time left but also surprised. "Time keeper, how is that possible?"

"Time flows along a continuum of stops and starts here, Son Gohan. When you engage Vegeta _directly_ , time is counted from that point. When you don't, then it stops. I would say you are lucky that this happens here. You and Trunks watched the prince from the sidelines a while before taking action, did you not? Perhaps you should have asked more about the rules of engagement beyond what you _thought_ you knew."

"So he's alive, then," Gohan replied, ignoring the polite scolding. "What about Trunks?"

"You have five hours, Son Gohan."

Gohan nodded affirmatively as his adult body shape-shifted into a child. "Fine, then. I reserve the right to ask more about 'the rules' _whenever_ I want." He certainly wasn't above stalling…to buy more time.

"As you wish," time keeper said. "As you wish."


	19. Fragments Make Noise

**Recap: Gohan tries to reach both Vegeta and Trunks within the astral plane after a terrifying incident happens, prompted by Vegeta's memories. Their attempt to save the Saiyan prince from his self-destruction, as well as their own deaths, depends on it.**

* * *

Gohan's lifetime of study as a fighter and peripatetic academic taught him to regard being surprised as a valuable training tool. As his younger brother would say: "Let down your guard and you're screwed." Piccolo's lesson wasn't as casual, of course. He warned Gohan from childhood never to bask in having the upper hand over opponents. For all he cared, a larger-than-life fight could last hours but Gohan should ultimately respect "the art of one and done." To be sure, the Namekian's electrifying battle energy flared much like Vegeta and Goku's, but his ideal image for Gohan was Vegeta's son from the future. Even now, memories of the efficient and determined young man lingered in his thoughts. He had saved lives, and in many ways Gohan emulated him in adulthood.

Gohan was surprised that Vegeta's memory focused on their time together on Namek, when Gohan was a boy. Regardless, the prince's senses had acknowledged him, which could be a positive development. Then again, they were on a replica of Namek. Vegeta had both been "friend" and foe when Gohan and Krillin first encountered him there. Gohan was well aware of how powerful and dangerous Vegeta was, but he never saw the true carnage the prince left behind there. Slaughtered Namekians were "collateral damage" during Vegeta's obsessive search for the the planet's Dragon Balls. Using them offered the chance for immortality, or so the prince thought, to conquer his barbarous and far more treacherous overlord, Frieza. The end justified the means. Later, Gohan wondered if the gods made a bet that Vegeta would eventually change his destructive ways. He was a mortal version of a cat with many lives.

Vegeta was also _a mess_ of contradictions then: cunning, cruel, anxious, cocky, despairing, perpetually angry, and even protective - when he chose to be. When they reluctantly joined forces to fight Frieza, Gohan found him to be equal parts mesmerizing and foolish, strong and brave, overconfident and sad. The man lived by an exacting, tortuous code. Yet, Gohan felt Vegeta's ambivalence about…him. The boy offered emotional connection and empathy that the prince couldn't comprehend at first. Not only that: Gohan's latent powers were breathtakingly formidable.

"Come out, _come out_ , wherever you _are_."

Vegeta's sing-song tone still unnerved Gohan a bit. He recalled his fear hiding behind a tiny mountain precipice that day. The boy had no battle armor and considered whether his skills offered a chance for complete escape. Nope. Bulma's giant Dragon Ball locator was also an insufficient weapon. He needed to keep that.

"Whoever you are, _come on out_ ," Vegeta snarled. "There is no escape _from me_. Show yourself now, and if you're lucky, _I may show you some compassion_. I am _losing_ my patience."

"Compassion my ass," Gohan whispered. Then he sighed.

Vegeta's ki fluctuated erratically, much like a flickering light bulb. Perhaps that's what timekeeper meant earlier: Vegeta had been _much closer_ to death before they arrived on the astral plane; maybe closer than everyone realized, except Piccolo. Had they not taken action, the prince would have died within a few hours anyway. Gohan would be forced to engage now, though, since Vegeta was actively looking for _him_ – or, rather, pursuing his life force. Time moved, and it was unlikely that Gohan could force a pause anymore. No matter where Vegeta's mind traveled now, they would likely interact.

Each mental fragmentation and subsequent, forced memory loss likely meant that Vegeta's ki was draining rapidly. Intense pain had to accompany it, much like deep internal bleeding throughout one's muscles and limbs. Normally, severe energy loss during fights could be restored with an extended recovery period - and it usually took a long time before well-trained Saiyans to lose that much power. But Vegeta's decomposition and anguish had, in a way, been "cooking" his insides, leading to a power hemorrhage. There had been no outlet for weeks. Now, the pressure had caused his power's "arteries" to burst. Therefore, Gohan believed that fighting directly with Vegeta could drain him. Fighting an opponent that Vegeta's mind conjured could drain him. If so, what happened earlier with Trunks must have.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," he muttered. He looked at the Dragon Ball next to him. Well, he would have to fight wisely. Vegeta responded to cleverness and power. Trunks had both, but Vegeta's response to those attributes in Gohan was intense. Essentially, they had been trained as "small men" during their respective childhoods. Vegeta recognized that early in the boy. It intrigued him.

The prince's laughter dripped with menace. "Well, if you won't come out on your own, then I'll flash you out like a rat. _Prepare to fry_."

"Stop!" Gohan yelled. "Stop. I… I surrender."

Vegeta raised a brow as the boy left his hiding place. _"Oh_ , _the son of Kakarot_. Well, I should have known it was you. We meet again. I just met your friends here, and I had a feeling you wouldn't be far behind."

Gohan eyed the Dragon Ball propped underneath Vegeta's arm. "Where did you get that from?"

"It was a gift from your bald-headed friend and that gorgeous girl he was with."

Even then Vegeta had been drawn to Bulma, Gohan thought. "What did you do to Bulma and Krillin?! Did you hurt them? _You animal!_ "

Vegeta frowned as his arm began to throb. "Actually, I didn't even touch them - but, if you want, I can be talked into going back. You see, brat, because I now have all seven of the Dragon Balls... well, I was _lenient_ with them."

But he _didn't_ have all seven. Gohan had one that Vegeta stashed earlier. This was his opportunity. He let the prince get close enough to touch him, just like before – but this time he was unafraid.

"You and I are a lot alike," Vegeta said darkly as he grabbed Gohan's shoulder. "We're the last of the Saiyans. That means we have to look out for each other, understand? You see, boy, it's almost as if we were _brothers_." He leaned closer, grinning. "Now this is what you get for trying to hold out on me, _little brother..._ "

Gohan caught Vegeta's knee easily before it could collide with his stomach. "Ah, ah, ah. _You can't fool me twice._ " He met the prince's steely gaze and smirked confidently. "Besides, I thought I was your second son, _asshole_." The prince gasped as Gohan's eyes flashed sky blue. "I knew you missed me."

"What the hell is this?!" Vegeta shouted.

Having milliseconds to gain an advantage, Gohan grabbed the prince's arm and threw him down. Vegeta's body jerked backward as his fellow Saiyan applied a restorative jolt of ki.

Timekeeper's voice echoed within Gohan's mind. "Impressive, you are. Continue."

Stricken with emotion, Gohan forced himself to speak. "Remember me as I am, my friend, not as I was."

Catching his breath, Vegeta said, "Where are we? Why are you here, Gohan?"

Gohan stopped short of smiling. Claiming victory was premature. "You know where we are, Vegeta. Your mind sensed my spiritual presence in this memory. You sought me out."

Intense anger and suspicion brimmed within the prince's eyes. "What did you do? _Sorcery_? No one should be able to enter my mind. _No one_."

"We haven't entered your mind...exactly. You…"

"Silence!" Vegeta commanded. "What, _exactly_ , do you mean by ' _we'_?"

Gohan felt reluctant to answer at first, but he couldn't lose Vegeta's attention again. He remained curious about what Trunks had encountered and how to reopen their psychic link.

"Trunks came with me. We are subject to your lived memories in the astral plane. Our spirits and consciousness are separated from our bodies. If we don't return within hours, they'll die and we'll be trapped here - unless we force our complete erasure within the plane, as well."

"You mean you allowed _my son_ to risk his life _needlessly_. I trusted you and Piccolo. How could you do this?"

Gohan lowered his eyes and said, "Tell me where he is, my friend. I cannot sense him."

Vegeta winced as tendrils of pain enveloped his shoulders and back. "I… do not know."

"Stay with me," Gohan urged. " _You do know_. You are totally protecting him from something."

"I _highly_ doubt that," Vegeta spat. "You have seen me deliberately inflict pain at my harshest, including on you. My son hasn't." The dreamscape shifted to a Namekian village. Bodies were strewn everywhere. "Is this what you want my loving, decent son to see at close range, Gohan? _This is who I am_."

Gohan shut his eyes to subdue his anger. Indeed, seeing the massacre was devastating. Yet, the wise Namekians forgave Vegeta after they were resurrected... though not all.

"Trunks knows of your transgressions. The pain you inflicted _on me_ was brutal. Piccolo's training wasn't that far from it, either. It could have been different for you both, really. Nevertheless, as you said, you were drawn to me. You taught me lessons in spite of yourself. You respected me."

Vegeta's laugh was dismissive and mirthless. "Just how much denial are you in, man? You haven't seen an eighth of the horror within my life. Tell me, do you remember the first time you killed? How did the blood spatter feel on your body? I recall it vividly in my own life. After I stayed on Earth, I marveled at your and Bulma's choice to reject permanent revulsion for me."

"Vegeta, stop this…"

The prince inhaled harder to control himself. "I _told you_ to stop idealizing me! Did you suddenly forget that I almost killed your father too?"

Gohan's temper flared with righteous indignation. " _I said stop it_ _!_ If your life wasn't worth a damn, then I wouldn't be here - and _my father_ feels similarly." He clenched his fists, returning to his adult form. "You have had multiple opportunities to make things right. The gods _allowed_ this for you. After all these years, what right do I have to question that? Don't spit _in_ _their faces_ by torturing yourself to death. You helped save _our universe -_ with my father! Your _noble_ work is not done, _Prince Vegeta_."

Vegeta stared blankly at him. "You had no right to bring my son into this."

Wind blew around them as the scene disappeared. Gohan rose on his knees.

"Vegeta, _I remember_ how you lay dying at Frieza's feet, on Namek, with a hole in your chest that he inflicted. _I remember_ his sadism: how he beat you mercilessly, and how his vicious mind games broke your spirit. Most of all, _I remember_ what you told my father, through tears: Don't let that bastard win – to avenge the Saiyans and stop him from polluting others' lives."

That dreadful, bloody scene appeared in front of them. Vegeta's raspy breath trembled, until Gohan held his hands to transfer more energy. Tears streamed down the younger man's face as they watched. "It was so wrong. I wanted to help you, seeing you thrashed like that. Even as a young boy, I knew then that you must have endured horrible treatment for years."

"No." Vegeta shook his head. "I hated Frieza to my core, but I also deserved a lifetime of beatings."

Gohan looked down and said, "You _will not_ die on me – or your son. Not like this. You may not see Bulma ever again, but she _said_ it is not your time. A part of you lives within me, too. I'm here with you, my liege. I swore fealty long ago. Frieza didn't succeed in making you irredeemable. Piccolo believes it, too, and understands better than most because of his own past."

"I cannot do this anymore." Vegeta's face twisted with anguish as his body convulsed. The pain was excruciating - worse than any training or battle, and some abuse he endured in his youth. His time in hell came closest. "And I am… not your king. Nor will I ever will be."

"But you _will_ stay the course, damn it." Gohan said firmly. "You will."

Vegeta's eyes closed. "You honor me, Son Gohan, _as I honor you_." Then, his body disappeared.

Gohan slammed his hands on the ground. He exhaled fury and disappointment. "I don't understand! He heard me! He recognized me! Where did he go?!"

"Indeed, he heard you," timekeeper said. "Hasn't your training taught you to fight while blinded? Fragments make noise. You have three hours and five minutes."

Gohan did not take kindly to being taunted. "I thought you said you couldn't interfere, timekeeper."

"Would you rather have me say nothing? Shall I give you a watch? I cannot stop the worst from happening, Son Gohan. I cannot help you deploy or enhance your talents. I cannot help you speak your truth to yourself or Prince Vegeta, which you just did. I cannot help if you face down death."

"Understood," Gohan said wearily. For a moment he wondered if Vegeta's view of himself was far darker than warranted. He knew the truth.

* * *

Trunks had no intention of moving when the younger, brasher Vegeta angrily fired at him. Hearing Gohan yell for their lives was the toughest part, but he knew his father wouldn't harm him. An older, stronger man batted the blast away effortlessly, pushing Trunks behind a protective wall of power.

This was the Vegeta he had been searching for.

Looking haggard, the prince crossed his arms. "You shouldn't be here, Trunks. How could you risk being murdered… _by_ _me_? Have you lost your mind?"

Trunks paused and smiled. "Because I knew you would never go through with it. _It wasn't you._ Plus, I am stronger than that version of you. Welcome back."

" _Hn_." Vegeta clutched his chest. "Oh, son, I thought I taught you… you… better. That man was… every bit of _me_."

Trunks stepped closer and said, "How many memories have you lost? You are lucid now."

Vegeta held up his hand, making clear that Trunks shouldn't move. Then, he fell into the astral void.

Trunks' chest heaved from heartache, but he didn't lose focus. Instead, he tracked Vegeta's ki signature to another memory fragment. His father's brief appearance had to be a plea for help. He soon emerged in a dark forest. Starlight peeked between the tall, stately trees that had to be centuries old. A pathway was partially illumined by crystals strewn across the dirt. Bushes had been cleared from the trail. The pristine setting was beautiful.

Then came the screams.


	20. What Has More Meaning?

**Recap: Trunks and Gohan continue searching Vegeta's fragmented memories within the astral plane. Time is passing in the mystical realm, and they must return to their bodies soon on Earth, but neither can walk away and let the prince die alone and in pain - because they are family. They also need all the help they can get.**

* * *

"Ella?"

"Yes, Gohan."

"Why are you speaking to me here? I thought Piccolo…"

"Piccolo thinks you need help," she said sharply. "This isn't against the rules. I cannot see Vegeta's memories, but the disturbances have intensified. Your strength and willpower combined with my empathic powers should help you delve deeper."

"Will you be safe?"

"Our sensory connection won't overwhelm me." Ella's eyes peered closer into Piccolo's. "Just prepare yourself."

Gohan's head dropped as a cyclone of crystalline lights surrounded his body. A nightmarish chill crawled like white-hot needles through him, until he lost his breath. He was forced from lotus position onto his back as blue-and-white tendrils snaked across this body. Red rocks shattered and burned overhead. Thick blood seeped from his fingertips.

"Oh, god," he murmured. "This." If Vegeta could withstand this lifelong, debilitating pain, so could he. He recalled past fights as his fists clenched, but there was no comparison. The horror was wraithlike, _exceeding_ the collective terror of villains Gohan once faced, except Frieza. He couldn't scream. Then, he did. Everything went black as he yelled and writhed and gasped. Sweat drenched his body. He laughed maniacally - a dark chorus of vengeful cackling that was familiar to him. Then, through the madness, his fighter's spirit swelled with dogged defiance and determination.

" _Yes_ , _Gohan_ ," Ella said softly. "Use these feelings to hold on to him – as well as what's most important to him. Your eyes aren't meant to see everything."

* * *

Vegeta had been a slave and a pet – at times a favored one. That's why Frieza pulled no punches torturing and humiliating the prince on Namek, before murdering him. Licking Vegeta's spattered blood from his face, the colonizer's narcissistic fury was in rare form:

 _"I taught him almost everything he knows. I gave him the ability to hold lives in his hands to do his bidding – at my bidding. I recognized his potential, unlike his stupid, weakling father. I allowed my men to train him in ways that made him stronger, despite their... brutality. Yet this pathetic monkey tries to kill me to avenge his 'warrior race' - and to fulfill some children's fairy tale."  
_  
Yet Frieza actually knew the truth was somewhere in between. The prince could have eventually joined the elite Ginyu Force or become a true right-hand man, like Zarbon. But, of course, he was still Saiyan, and that "fairy tale" about ascending to Super Saiyan never strayed far from Frieza's calculating mind. After all, his anger toward Vegeta's father and concern over Saiyans' growing numbers and strength prompted his destruction of them all. Keeping their child prince had been a blessing and a curse, but the overlord liked games of chance. Vegeta had some formal education before being handed over to Frieza, who allowed certain lessons to continue. He occasionally took the boy on expeditions alone, toying with his ability to trust. When they returned, he would then throw him to the dogs. However many beatings Vegeta received, Frieza's men were barred from killing him. Anyone who dealt a final blow would be tortured to death.

Under Frieza's rule, Vegeta in his youth swung between fear, disgust, reverence, and other feelings that he couldn't define. Like a scolding father, his "lord" often told him to be grateful, since he had no other family. Frieza also said that Nappa and Raditz - the last Saiyans alive who were Vegeta's attendants - couldn't protect the prince, ever. As a boy Vegeta clamored for work assignments, and even felt pleased when Frieza praised certain achievements. But, like most strong-willed children, he rebelled, causing severe punishments. His sometimes-favored status always made him a target among peers, despite Frieza's constant mocking of them all. The overlord enjoyed playing them against each other. A few of his elite team felt Vegeta would never be good or smart enough to join their ranks. Frieza left them guessing, though. His pet had come of age, primed to play at the top of his game. The others all suspected Vegeta's strength would increase exponentially someday, though they didn't know when or how. If he solidly became Frieza's right hand - or murdered their leader – no gods would help save them. A handful also knew Frieza had destroyed Planet Vegeta. That secret couldn't be hidden from the Saiyan prince forever, either.

Vegeta compartmentalized emotions: Killing, as he did, made it necessary. Training, under threat of death, made it paramount. The twisted "love" Frieza doled out blackened his soul. The feelings were a battle mage's spell, drugging his mind with hatred and callousness and barbarism that, at times, even disturbed Nappa and Raditz. After a while, the drug hardened his heart and even aroused him.

In truth, he _was_ drugged – constantly – to fulfill Frieza's goals. He was tricked into taking the substance during his preteen years and, later, was offered as much as needed to keep going. He could be more brutal, with less remorse and awareness of his deeds. He always found women to have sex with while high, too, and could pleasure himself for hours. Frieza loved how the prince could inflict deliberate, uncompromising violence while simultaneously lose control from the drug's intoxicating effects. He never touched his pet, though. He would just talk to him, berating and complimenting him.

Seeing Vegeta come down from his highs satisfied Frieza's sadistic needs, as well. The drugs never affected his strength, but the mental disturbances were hellish, especially at night. Eventually, the prince's pride helped him defeat his addiction, but the damage had been done. He was a "made man" under Frieza, much like a capo regime in the Mafia. On his worst days he recalled what the drug did to him. Later, Bulma's pain pill usage made him anxious because he knew intimately how good being under the influence felt - until it didn't anymore.

These memories were best locked away or forgotten altogether.

* * *

The screaming echoing through the forest stopped abruptly.

Trunks braced himself for the inevitable, lurking within memories that no man would want his children to witness. Regardless of what he knew, Vegeta had remained his hero. Now came the antithesis: confronting the callous killer in person _._ Trunks also wondered about the hours left. Timekeeper hadn't said, perhaps intentionally, because of the astral plane's mysticism and Vegeta's increasingly powerful psychological responses within it. A reason would be revealed eventually, he figured. Although he hoped to join forces with Gohan, the prince's awareness was his primary concern. He also sensed his father's physical pain and erratic ki fluctuations. Like Gohan, he suspected that these deeper plunges into Vegeta's subconscious were draining the life from him. Though his father's rational mind emerged to protect him before, Trunks knew the odds might not favor a reappearance _in that way_ again.

Vegeta's sensory abilities weren't impaired, obviously, but this memory occurred before he learned to sense power levels without a scouter. Still, Trunks suppressed his ki before moving closer. He had to think strategically, expecting that Vegeta's instinctive reactions to any threat would be frighteningly aggressive, more than before. The unsettling look in his father's eyes was a clue.

On the ground lay a bloody torso partially dressed in a fight suit. The person's severed legs and decapitated head were strewn far apart. Flanked by two gigantic Saiyans who weren't wearing scouters, Vegeta propped his boot on the cracked skull and spit. Behind was a alien woman chained in energy shackles. Her head bobbed like someone struggling not to fall asleep – or unconscious.

Vegeta turned to survey her and then shook his head with annoyed disgust. "Fool. I was trying to break him in properly, and this is how he repays _my…_ _kindness_."

The long-haired Saiyan standing nearby laughed. "Vegeta, uh, was that really necessary? Captain Ginyu is going to shit a brick. You can't just go killing promising recruits. Are you trying to get us murdered?"

Vegeta crushed the skull. "Stop worrying about yourself, Raditz! _You know my rules,_ and this three-eyed idiot ignored them. Either kill the women or recruit the strongest and smartest under threat of standard torture or death. Rape is forbidden. It's beneath us as Saiyans. Others who engage in it are weak and undisciplined." He smirked. "Besides, the women will eventually want to have sex if they like you – until they carve your chest open for entertainment."

Trunks' stomach turned. _What kind of insane honor code is this?_ He tried not to think of Bulma.

Raditz snorted. "That's easy for you to say, Vegeta. You get any woman you want." He crossed his arms and frowned. "Well, which is it for her, considering your, uh, personal history?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Vegeta replied sarcastically. Glancing in Trunks' direction, he deactivated his scouter and removed it. "Leave us. Nappa, finish searching the north end. I want to be done here within two hours or less." Trunks cringed, knowing that his father was close to losing his temper.

Nappa scratched his bald head. "Sire, you probably shouldn't be left alone. She's still dangerous."

" _Shut up – both of you_!" Vegeta snarled. Annoyed, he scraped leftover brain tissue from his boot. "Disrespect my orders _again_ and you'll end up worse than this mutilated idiot! Now get the hell out!" His eyes lingered on Trunks' hiding place until the captured woman murmured. He clutched her chin as the other two left. "Indeed, Nappa is correct. You are beautiful, which makes your kind the most treacherous. But… I did enjoy sleeping with you." He reduced the restraints' power to awaken her and stepped back.

Scowling, the disoriented woman looked up. "Vegeta?"

Vegeta crossed his arms. "Surprised, Ameri? Don't bother asking for mercy, because you're already a dead woman."

She flashed a defiant smile at his taunt, which Vegeta actually expected. "Then get on with it, _little prince_. You're usually an efficient murderer. Maybe you're struggling because you actually care _for_ _me_?"

"Hardly," Vegeta sneered. "Duty and power come before sentiment in our way of life. Killing you isn't the issue considering your betrayal, although I anticipated it. _This is strictly in the line of duty_. I won't be committing murder – but, then again, I am used to others underestimating me. One day, that will no longer be problem either." He nodded casually at the dismembered body. "However, I am curious to know how this buffoon captured you. I am sorely disappointed about not having the honor."

"Your pride compelled you to kill one of your own... like that?" Ameri asked, rolling her eyes. "Oh, for the love of the universe, man. Would you please get over yourself?"

Vegeta cast another subtle glance at the green copse where his son hid. An untrained eye wouldn't have noticed, but Trunks did. "I have my reasons for killing him, woman. He didn't follow _my rules_ for catching insurgents and traitors for interrogation. You were unconscious on the ground when I arrived. Regardless, you aren't doing yourself any favors with me now."

Imaginary scouter or not, Trunks knew his father was aware of another presence. He also guessed Vegeta felt confident that the threat was managable, which the prince did. He _would_ kill the nosy intruder whenever it suited him. Trunks fought his distraction by the surroundings powered by Vegeta's mind and body. And, like Cell, the mortals radiated different strength levels in this memory. It was truly amazing.

"Your man got lucky, Vegeta," Ameri said. "He got lucky. That's all."

He glared intensely at her. "Hn."

Ameri shook her head at his suspicion. "Look, commander, either release me or kill me. You're the one returning empty-handed to Frieza."

Vegeta's jaw shifted slowly. "Indeed." His face hovered inches from hers. Less than a second passed before a fiery, volcanic flash crashed into a subterranean cavern. Then, he casually lowered his left hand.

Eyes filling with tears, Ameri's defiant stance crumbled. "You monster," she whispered. "Frieza _really has_ made you like him. I thought…"

"Thought what?" Vegeta cocked his head, seeming genuinely surprised. "That I was incapable of killing your children? _You dare judge me?!_ You've played all sides as a mercenary for years _and_ watched me do much worse! Now you're getting a taste of what others have experienced. What if I had taken your cubs to sell them, as others like me surely would do? What then?"

Trunks, who had lost track of time, withheld vomit creeping up his throat. The prince had been party to numerous atrocities, but this was much too personal.

Ameri's grief-stricken face searched Vegeta's for any emotion beyond indifference. "What if I said they were _your_ children?! What then?!"

"If they were mine, then I've done us both _a favor_ ," Vegeta replied with robotic aloofness. "Neither of us needed attachments. I have my goals, and they never, ever included you. Death has been your livelihood, and yet you chose to bear children. How _utterly_ selfish and hypocritical. _You, and only you, are the fool._ " His head and chest felt like they would explode, but he didn't flinch – but for a slight finger twitch. Suddenly confused, he stared at his former lover. He was losing focus. "You were…are…were the fool, Ameri."

How many times had this same scenario played in his life?

* * *

Something was off, Trunks thought. Logically, yes, Vegeta was capable back then of murdering his own children - maybe. He _had been_ the vicious monster of many innocents' nightmares. However, Trunks recalled that some memories might be inaccurate. This had to be one of them. _He felt it_. Then, his ears buzzed. He rolled and back-flipped as a fusillade of ki blasts raced toward both sides. His teeth gritted as he landed on his feet. _Can't overthink this. I have to stop father from draining himself._ Ameri's location moved farther back, while a dust cloud surrounded him. The vegetation was destroyed.

Vegeta's physical pain had been replaced by a surge of battle energy. "You're not dead yet because I'm curious about your origin." His eyebrow raised. "My scouter told me as much. Why didn't you hide your power levels better? Apparently, they are on par with mine." He said this with some irritation.

Trunks frowned and replied, "Do you _want_ to fight me?" He knew Vegeta was gathering power. The ki fluctuations had stopped.

Amused by his new prey, Vegeta laughed. "If I were you, I would think of a thousand questions for a warrior like me, such as 'Are you a worthy opponent?' and 'Are you willing to die proving it?'"

Trunks groaned inwardly. Would every memory _he_ entered end like this? "I'm not here to claim your life. I'm here to save it." He tried to be stoic, but Vegeta heard emotion in his voice - a weakness. The prince laughed louder, but his eyes weren't merry. He looked ready to throttle his son.

" _Save it?"_ he asked brusquely. "There _is_ no danger. _I am a destroyer._ Now answer my question, spy. I just might spare your life."

"If I were anyone else, you probably wouldn't," Trunks said, reflecting on his words. "But I am…a part of you, just like Ameri's children were. What really happened?"

Vegeta bared his teeth. "That's none of your concern, _and now I have had enough_." His fists clenched as an angry, yellow glow flashed like fire around him.

Trunks barely had time to block Vegeta's iron fist flying toward his chin. Smirking, Vegeta circled and threw a kick in Trunks' breastbones. His son flew backward but quickly regained balance.

"God damn it!" Trunks shouted. "What the hell is this? How can this be happening?" Vegeta was nowhere near his first Super Saiyan ascension at this age, but that didn't matter this time, apparently.

"Oh, it's a little trick I learned skipping through the galaxy," Vegeta said as he eyed him again. "You took those hits well. _Now stop holding out on me_."

Trunks was right that Vegeta's mind would deploy stronger tools to neutralize threats. His children's deaths had traumatized him, and Trunks' pointed questions felt threatening. Thus, "body memory" kicked in. Now, Vegeta's instincts would summon any skill necessary for protection, no matter when he learned it. However, the ego from his youth kept him there.

Trunks' arms fell as his hair shimmered gold and eyes turned sea-blue. Vegeta lifted his chin, acknowledging the challenge. They raced at high speeds above, below, and around each other. Their synchronization infuriated Vegeta. He could ascend to another power level to capture him, but that shouldn't have been necessary.

Trunks spun around in front and stopped. "She murdered them, not you!" he shouted. "That's what happened, isn't it?! Isn't it?!"

Vegeta's ki dropped again. No matter. Ignoring the questions, he replied, "I haven't used a fraction of my power, fool, if that's what you're waiting for."

They locked fists, but Trunks didn't raise his voice. "You're the one who's waiting. _Now I understand_."

"I am a true warrior!" Vegeta bellowed as Trunks leveled his gaze at him. " _I wait for_ _no one_."

Pursued by his slightly befuddled father, Trunks raced toward earth and replied, "Then kill me, father." He powered down and bowed low at Vegeta's feet. "You can easily do that now that I am defenseless, but know that I love you. You're my best friend and teacher. I cannot – will not - leave you here, alone."

Vegeta's chest pain returned, further disturbing his focus. This young man with tremendous power had requested death. Completely ridiculous. "Just stop it! Get up and fight! Where is your honor? How _dare_ you withhold from me? How can you call yourself my son, since that's who you say are, by acting like this?"

"I am giving you everything I can," Trunks said. "Do the same for me – again." Before them appeared his memory of Vegeta hugging him before battling Majin Buu. "Remember this?" Both were surprised Trunks could project the vivid scene outside of himself with ease.

Vegeta shook his head as his rational mind resurfaced. He then recalled Gohan's last words about the astral plane. He couldn't let "his boys," as foolish as they were, to be trapped because of his choices. _Death called for him._

Trunks looked up. "Father, can you hear me now?"

Vegeta sighed as his older body reappeared. "Yes, Trunks, Ameri murdered our twins." He looked down. "I… didn't know until we captured her. They weren't far from us. No mistake that I sired them: the tails, the hair, eyes. They were a little more than a year old." He closed his eyes. "She... slit their throats."

"Oh my god." Trunks fell back, rubbing a hand over his face. "What did you do to her? Did you love her?"

"I let her go – and, no, I didn't. There was no love to be found – fondness at one time, yes, but nothing more. Ameri wanted to keep the babies but did what _she thought_ was right. She was a fugitive and knew my brutality well. Many thoughts expressed in that memory were hers, not mine, and I deserved every word. Nappa and Raditz said nothing, under no threat of death from me. If I had heirs, and as terrible as we were, they would've been responsible for protecting the royal bloodline – 'half-breeds' included. They wanted to kill her on the spot."

Trunks wanted to embrace his father, despite the ugliness he had witnessed. "Did mom know?"

"Trunks, stop. _I'm tired_. I am not giving up, like you believe I am. I'm just tired. I apologize for breaking my promise, but I must be honest with myself. Just because I was resurrected years ago doesn't mean I shouldn't go through this now." He fell on his knees, wrapping his arms across his chest. He felt like acid was eating through him. "Your…mother… was a miracle, and so are you and your sister. Never forget that." His ki dropped further, but another surge was possible.

Trunks crawled next him. "No, damn it! You stay right here. My kids need their elder - the grandfather they adore. They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Give me your pain! We can get Gohan here together, too."

"Trunks, _my mind_ has willed my impending death," Vegeta said wearily. "Follow whatever broken pieces of your choosing here. You'll meet a dead end each time. Return me to my body."

"I'm here," Gohan said, stepping in front. "Set it free, Vegeta, once and for all. No nightmares." He placed his hands on them. "No more nightmares. I have felt them all now. Just trust us."

Vegeta's eyes opened wide and hollow. "But you haven't seen everything. Now save yourselves." A crushing, fiery blast threw Trunks and Gohan _miles and miles_ apart, their strong bodies tumbling like dried tree leaves. Yet the two were able to rejoin in minutes, because they willed it.

"You are now of one mind within this realm, Saiyan sons, without using fusion. Very good," timekeeper said. "One and a half hours left."

"Then time moved differently when we were separated," Gohan said, "so our net times were combined."

"Correct," the voice replied through a wind gust. "Proceed."

Trunks' eyes cast downward, while his friend remained quiet. "So what happened with you, Gohan?"

"I was a boy, again, on Namek with your father. He…was distraught after I reached him."

"Okay, so far each scene has focused on children in some way." Trunks scratched his chin. "He had a scouter in his last memory, with me. I also learned I had siblings, whose mother killed them."

Gohan stepped forward. "Oh, no."

Trunks shook his head and said, "Let's deal with things as they are. Like father told us, we haven't seen everything."

"He's also becoming younger with each scene," Gohan surmised. "That's the second part of this pattern."

Trunks exhaled. "I wonder how strong his defenses will be now, if we find him? Any more effort and it might kill him outright."

"Well, he's already shown that he can't – or won't - kill us, Trunks. The key is laying our hands on him again. We just have to take this chance."

"Gohan, Trunks!" Ella shouted. "Use the tools I've given you! Eyes cannot feel. Your hearts are with him. What has sustained Vegeta his entire life?" Both men were silent at first. Then, they looked at each other.

"His pride," Trunks replied.

Gohan nodded. "Of course. "

Ella's voice faded. "Use what you learned, Gohan. You felt all of it."

Gohan then recalled one of his most painful memories, when Vegeta's demon-possessed mind unearthed what the man hadn't expressed in almost a decade on Earth:

 _"Tell me, is it slavery when you get what you want?! What do you know of meaningless? Spend most of your life ruled by another, watch your race dwindle to handful, and then tell me what has more meaning than your own strength?!"  
_  
Trunks was growing impatient. " _What_ , Gohan? What are you thinking? We don't have much time. His strength is low."

"We're at a standstill on time here, remember? It won't pass for us. Vegeta's memories don't engage as quickly or burn as much energy until we react to them. We can afford to wait. Sit with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sit down, Trunks. _Now._ "

* * *

 **Notes: Yeah, this is a long one, so thanks for sticking with me! I appreciate your comments. Thanks much!**


	21. The Possession

**Recap: Trunks and Gohan don't have much time left in the psychic realm to help Vegeta through his painful memories before his depression kills him. But they remain determined as their families anxiously wait for their consciousness to return. Gohan, though, worries that Trunks' earnest efforts may harm his relationship with Vegeta.**

* * *

Gohan's heightened concern about Vegeta's mindset had long been replaced by a less-excitable disposition. One could call it phlegmatic, even. Stopping the prince's mental decomposition successfully could not happen through desperate acts, he felt. Though Trunks was his father's son, strong and resolute, Gohan wondered whether his friend would fall victim to other ideas. Would he lose focus trying to save his father from himself? Saiyans' formidable powers were largely accelerated by their emotions in part, but learning to control them made elite warriors. That made the difference. But how many stupid moves had Gohan and Goku and Vegeta, especially, made during fits of pique or despair or overconfidence when they didn't exercise control?

Until now, almost everyone in the extended Brief and Son families, as well as their friends, felt Vegeta had laid much of his past trials to rest – except Bulma, because she knew her husband well, and Piccolo, who empathized with Vegeta because they shared attitudinal similarities.

With Ella's empathic help, only Gohan had emotionally _experienced_ the genesis and entire progression of Vegeta's identity - fraught with unfathomable brutality and insanity. Before that, the younger Saiyan could only speculate beyond his experience during childhood with Vegeta's rampages and inner turmoil. Indeed, he agreed partially with Vegeta saying Trunks should never, ever see or feel the full brunt of the prince's past. Battling a seemingly soulless, unredeemable enemy was far different from courageously confronting the worst of the demon incarnate who gave you life.

Your beloved father.

But many eventually found worth in that so-called demon, helping the Saiyan prince discover the joys of living beyond ego-driven conquest. Gohan considered these this as he and Trunks approached a vast coliseum Vegeta's mind had conjured. They paused within a craggy chamber overlooking the sandy floor. In the middle a handsome, muscular young boy stood ramrod straight, as if he were the pole forcing gunpowder into a rifle. His black hair was messily erect, save for the dramatic locks draping his forehead. The lad would've been almost dashing, but wrathful, calculating eyes dominated his appearance. A bluish-green aura wafted around him, flowing fluidly with his breaths - almost like a sentient guardian.

Gohan and Trunks knew the energy shield was alarmingly powerful, though they couldn't sense the ki from which it was made. But they felt its enormous pressure.

Gohan glanced at Trunks. _"Are you okay?"_

 _"Yeah,"_ Trunks said, keeping his eyes on the floor. _"What do you feel? Ella said…"_

 _"Concentrate, Trunks. You're capable."  
_  
 _"I…I can't sense anything 'him' anymore, Gohan. The barrier doesn't matter. I mean, look at him now. He's a child, where all of this started – the worst of what he was before meeting my mother."_

Gohan clutched his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. _"The worst? Do you really believe that?"_

 _"Don't patronize me!"_ Trunks said, shaking off the grasp. " _You know damn well that it's true."  
_  
 _"Perhaps, but you took this risk with me to help him - to break through his depression in a way that couldn't happen otherwise. Even through his pain, Vegeta has been protecting your mental state ever since his memories were revealed within this psychic realm – and even before that. He would rather die than expose you to the worst. What you see down there – that glaring force - is the last of his strength."_

Thinking of his twin children, Trunks realized that Vegeta never properly mourned his own slaughtered twins. Vegeta never felt that he deserved to because he felt responsible, justifiably - and didn't tell his wife, who could have comforted him like none other. Instead, the prince tried to be the light of his grandchildren's lives. Losing Bulma had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

Neither Trunks nor Gohan knew that the young Vegeta could see them. He also heard their telepathic conversation. While he couldn't understand why, his newfound knowledge was intriguing. The older of the two seemed a more challenging opponent, but didn't underestimate the younger one. No one would have guessed that man was upset. His stance didn't show it, reminding the prince of himself.

But they spoke of him as if he were another person – an older person. And what was this alleged "depression"? Preposterous, he thought. Many youngsters likely would have been maimed or died from the callous strain Frieza and the tyrant's henchmen inflicted routinely _on him only_. He almost had, several times. In their arrogance Frieza's minions misjudged how deadly the prince would become.

But Frieza never did.

Vegeta closed his eyes, recalling the tyrant's playful smile – one of cruel devilment. Not once did the Frieza face his pet protégé. He was pleased, though.

* * *

 _"Look, I'm bored! I need an assignment!"_

 _"Give Prince Vegeta an assignment, Zarbon - immediately. The boy doesn't mean any harm. He just hasn't learned how to control his passion. Give him the hardest assignment you have – and Vegeta, do come back alive."_

 _"I will, sire. Thank you very much."_

* * *

 _That bastard._ He looked up and smirked. Time for some action.

"Well, well, well," he said in a scolding tone. "What do we have here? My goodness, you are the worst enemy scouts I've seen. But alas, I am still young and _enduring_ my education on spying. Now tell me, what's this mysterious force of which you speak? _I see_ _nothing_."

"You heard us," Trunks said as his eyes scanned the area. Again, he shouldn't have been surprised that his father could be a deeply discomfiting smooth talker at this age – unless rage consumed him. It was time to push himself and Vegeta over the edge. Piccolo and the astral realm's timekeeper had told them not to run the clock to the last minute once the prince detected and engaged them.

"My, you're a smart one," Vegeta said sarcastically. "Oh, yes. I suppose you should know that I see you too. Don't bother searching for weak spots to subdue me. I know every inch of this crumbling shithole well for… various reasons. "

"Vegeta, we've followed your mind through several memories," Gohan said as he calmly descended to the floor. "I know this is the last one before you die. We can't let that happen. You've done your best to protect your loved ones."

"Nonsense," Vegeta said flatly. _"_ I have _no_ loved ones. I guess you're not as smart as you look. What a pity." _  
_  
"Oh, but you do." Trunks said following Gohan, who kept a safe distance. He reminded himself that Vegeta's power usage could be as flexible as the prince envisioned within this space. Vegeta also was working now from body memory of matured fighting skills and Super Saiyan abilities, and god knows what else, despite each his age regression and dissociative mental states.

"Hn." Vegeta eyes flashed, though he looked bored stiff. Observing him, Gohan this time questioned whether the prince finally had lost all rational sense. If so, Vegeta would be hell-bent on killing them _because he could_ , unless he died first. No doubt, the protective barrier would shatter as his remaining strength dissolved. Unconsciousness and suffocation could occur within minutes, if that long. Worse, Senzu beans couldn't be used for recovering their strength until they returned to their physical bodies.

Gohan and Trunks had to crack the barrier at the right time. The former stood his ground, without entering a combat stance or changing his base fighting form - until a flaming aura enveloped him. He already had mastered maximum speed-of-light mode and understood its limits, deliberately making himself vulnerable. Nodding at Trunks, he crisscrossed the arena floor pelting the energy shield with swift hits. He hoped Vegeta's overconfidence would emerge.

The prince didn't move an inch. Instead, the barrier _itself_ shot several beams in opposite directions, forming an electrified cage around Gohan.  
 _  
Damn it!_ _He's not moving at all. I've never seen this. This ki manipulation must be exclusive to this realm. But why is Vegeta using Frieza's technique?_ Overconfidence notwithstanding, that was nonsensical.

Vegeta laughed like a jail warden preparing for his inmates' torture. "I see you're unimpressed, as am I. You are holding back, obviously. I should kill you on general principle for that alone. Actually, I will, but I love new toys."

Gohan's teeth gritted. "Not yet, you arrogant little bastard. Not yet." Then, his body bored like a power drill into the ground, deftly escaping the bars closing in on his head.

Trunks cut angry eyes at Gohan over the insult, though he understood his friend's reasoning.

"We got him, man."

"Shut up and move, Trunks!"

By then Trunks had transformed to Super Saiyan, with his hands sprawled behind Vegeta's back. Drawing his them down, he fired a buster cannon. One barrier beam swatted it away, while another whipped forward to face him, resembling a striking cobra. Its blood red, recessed eyes were haunting, but Trunks stared hard into them and touched the figure. Only then did he _feel_ the sweltering emotional heat of Vegeta's past hatreds, disappointments, tortures, and fears. Brimstone smoke from the depths of hell burned his lungs.

Now they shared an empathic connection powerful enough to kill them both.

Bleary-eyed, Trunks grabbed his throat. "Oh…god. I…can't breathe. Father, please!"

Memories and horrific voices sailed his mind with lightning speed, until stopping at one. Perhaps it was Trunks' strong will that blocked others from recognition or acknowledgement. However, the sensations still overwhelmed him.

His eyes rolled backward.

Gohan phased behind to catch him, also noticing Vegeta's energy barrier was visibly lighter.

"Why don't you come up here and fight yourself, Vegeta!"

The prince felt nauseated and unsteady but couldn't reveal any weakness. He clenched his palms. "How touching. - and you even know my name. What's up with your friend? Sounds like he's hallucinating. Oh, well. He bores me anyway. You, however, still have my interest."

Unexpectedly, Trunks bolted from Gohan's arms to the coliseum floor. His power level amplified as he clutched his body. He screamed and groaned with a ferocious ugliness and pain that Gohan recalled instantly - and would never forget.

 _Oh, god. Not this one. You don't have to do this, Trunks.  
_  
Recognizing a weak point, Gohan moved toward the ki barrier's left side. He sensed Vegeta differently. He had an opening but took a gamble on letting this scene unfold. At first Vegeta was bemused but appeared unfazed, until a giant "M" and bulging veins appeared on Trunks' forehead. A thundering red and yellow aura swathed his body, while his musculature and power levels exploded.

The prince gasped. He couldn't believe his eyes.

Trunks' voice crackled with raw anger and contempt. "Imagine my shock to see the undeniable proof, to discover that no matter hard I tried, I would _never_ be able to catch you - a warrior prince _forever living in the shadow_ of a low-level clown! _So that's when I secretly made up my mind_."

"This can't be happening," Vegeta whispered. "Please, gods. No."

Those were _his_ words in _his_ voice.

Gohan's eyes shut. The possession was real.

* * *

 **Notes: If you're still reading, thanks for your commitment and generous support. My personal life has been difficult lately, hence the radio silence on this story and others. However, I do return to the horse saddle when I feel up to it. Your comments keep me on my mind going. Thanks for taking time to leave them.**


	22. Outclassed

**Recap: Trunks has been possessed, revisiting the memory of his father's possession years earlier. Both he and Vegeta confront each other's worst nightmares. Meanwhile, Gohan is determined to leave the mystical, psychic realm he and Trunks entered to help Vegeta combat his depression.**

* * *

Gohan's assumption was mistaken. The impassable, mysterious aura was otherworldly. He still couldn't sense it. However, his senses had locked on Vegeta's life force, as if he had been permitted to do it. The Saiyans' remaining time in the astral plane concerned him as much as whether this force was feeding on Trunks and Vegeta's strength and minds to claim them regardless.

But why now? The astral realm's timekeeper had said its mystical overseers were omnipresent. He didn't say they _would interfere_ before time ran out. Only timekeeper said that _it_ couldn't. Had Piccolo known? No, no, no. He wouldn't have agreed to open the portal. _`Never._

Gohan was beyond furious.

For Vegeta, the memory of Babadi's possession reflected through Trunks shocked him into lucidity. The youth Gohan and Trunks faced earlier quickly returned to its adult form. The prince seemed unsteady but soon straightened with solid eye contact and calculating focus. The depression hadn't disappeared, but the stakes were higher now.

The little boy he almost lost forever desperately needed his father.

Gohan felt hopeful, knowing unequivocally that the proud Saiyan prince was preparing to fight - and, finally, felt he wasn't alone. His boys stayed by his side.

Vegeta crossed his arms - purposely ignoring Gohan, but not from anger with him. Not only was he grief-stricken and horrified about Trunks' condition, he was _enraged_ enough to kill anything in his way. This wasn't Babadi's sorcery, he knew. The wizard had been dead for years.

Gohan cautiously moved closer to the barrier to observe. _"Vegeta, can you sense whatever this force is now? You let it do the offensive fighting before. Do you remember?"_

Trunks faced him with a toothy, mocking sneer. "Speak up, my friend! Did you forget that telepathy doesn't work anymore? _We're all family here, aren't we_?" His menacing eyes widened as he hunched over, further exposing their reddened sclera and cloudy golden irises.

"Fine," Gohan said, extending his hand. "You should do the same then. Speak your mind. Obviously, you still have some awareness beyond _this_ _thing_ possessing you. You must not carry your father's burdens. He doesn't want this. _Fight it_. Don't let whatever it is consume you."

Gohan dwelled on his helplessness and sadness after witnessing Vegeta's possession. The man who once quietly offered to train a grieving boy further, after Goku's second death, had fallen severely. All it took was one day and the prince's selfish, desperate desire to settle scores - and, sadly, to feel affirmed.

Vegeta recalled when Shin, Universe 7's powerful Supreme Kai, begged him similarly to reject the wizard's influence. Then, he held up his hand. "Stop, Gohan. This… is my battle. You've done enough – and well." He nodded, silently thanking him, and focused his steely gaze to Trunks. "I am not so weak-minded to hear the truth again as my son experiences it – or as he's being forced to. I have failed to protect him for now, but I'm not going anywhere this time."

Trunks clapped slowly to taunt him. "Protect me, Prince Vegeta? How _noble_ of you." The blue aura projected an image of a bloodied, powered-up Goku fighting Vegeta, as seeping gashes and bruises crisscrossed Trunks' body. Thick lines of blood trickled from jaw to chin.

Vegeta told Trunks years ago about the possession and the violent battle that followed. But he never said he _invited_ the wizard's influence deliberately to gain more physical power and, later, denied his affection for his family. Even Goku almost believed that, until he forced the prince to admit otherwise. As they clashed, he also suspected that Vegeta never had intended to kill him...perhaps.

Indeed, by excavating and amplifying years of turmoil, Babadi's sorcery had pushed Vegeta closer permanent insanity than he had ever been. He thought he could control the situation at first. He hadn't intended to harm so many people on his ignominious quest to reclaim his honor – but he did. He certainly hadn't expected the horror afterward, when he and Goku realized their incredible fight unleashed the greatest scourge the universe had ever known.

What was left of Vegeta's will and self-respect eventually freed him from the darkness, but the damage was done after Majin Buu's reign of terror commenced.

Trunks lowered his head and smiled. "I knew that if I allowed myself to fall under Babadi's control, the difference in our power levels would disappear, Kakarot. I'm _quite pleased_ with the results."

"That's enough," Vegeta replied with quiet sternness. "I remember what I said." With eyebrow raised, he paused. "Now tell me, _demon_ , why is my son being tortured needlessly? Release him. _Now._ "

"How dare you tell _me_ what's enough, _father?!_ " Trunks' voice screeched louder, as if another had joined him. " _You_ denied us! _You_ didn't hear mom scream and cry – on her knees - after _you_ died. _I did!_ You took your life and _almost lost your soul_ to right those wrongs that shouldn't have happened at all!"

Vegeta sighed. "I know, and I am sorry, Trunks, but I cannot change the past. I have never lied to you. Hate me for eternity, but I am still your father. After I was resurrected, I never wanted you to doubt your importance to me _ever_ – or my love _._ So yes, from all you know of my life, I was fine leaving this part out, _and I'd damned well do it again_. Embracing you before I died game me more strength and courage to do what I thought was right, because I had been a fool. I _could not_ be responsible for losing another innocent child of mine - or for that matter anyone else's children."

Trunks gripped his chest and fell forward, while changing into the eight-year-old he once was. Though Vegeta felt weaker, he managed to catch him.

"Papa, it hurts. Please, make it stop. Please. Don't leave me. Don't leave." In Trunks' pleas Vegeta heard echoes from his own childhood. Choking back tears, he knelt recalling how his tough little boy just wanted to help papa "beat that Majin Buu monster" attacking their world.

He gently brushed back Trunks' hair. "You're going to be fine, son. I am proud of you." Then, he angrily fired one beam after another at the barrier, which flowed like seawater as it absorbed them. "Tell me who you are, damn it! Release my son! If you think I fear going to hell again, you are _sadly_ mistaken! Take me!"

He leaned forward, panting. Trunks' breathing slowed too, which Gohan noticed with rising alarm. Either they still had a chance to leave, or they were now trapped.

Gohan threw up his arms. "Timekeeper? What is this? What _is_ this?!"

"Silence," said two vaporous blue-green wraiths that emerged. "Time is not your concern, child of Goku - at least for now. As mystics, we approached because of the powerful connection between your dimension and ours. A loved one of yours is well-versed in the mystic arts, with limitations, while the other isn't. Yet they're holding the psychic portal open longer than expected for your return. We are intrigued – and we _are not_ demons, Prince Vegeta."

"Well, what is it that you want then?" Vegeta said through clenched teeth. "What the hell is it?"

"The question is, what do you want?" the wraiths said. "These men have risked their lives. What have you decided? Life or death? Your darker memories are painful for us to observe and feel here, as well as the ongoing torment you've chosen to end your life. But we also understand your deep mourning for one who loved you unconditionally."

"You know _nothing_ about me," Vegeta said defiantly.

Five more beings emerged, glowing green and white. "You still are alive now because _we_ upheld your powers, but that cannot last much longer. Your body grows weaker because you are much closer to death - along with your son, because he connected directly with your spirit."

A chill ran through Gohan's body. The wraiths definitely weren't favoring either Vegeta's or Trunks' deaths. They wanted something more – a lot more.

Worried, Vegeta looked down at Trunks, who hadn't moved. "My son has nothing to do with this. He shouldn't have been possessed. What were you trying to accomplish? It hurt him."

"We gave Trunks the opportunity to find what he was searching for… and he did. Also, it is futile to fire at us. Your powers within your universe are formidable - and have helped several —but they _are not_ here."

"So where does that leave us?" Gohan said with frustration. "This gets us nowhere."

A hollow-eyed wraith approached him. "Where does that leaves _them_ , you mean?"

Staring at the figure with hardness, Gohan said, "Yes, I do."

The wraith bowed. "A good friend you are." It turned back to Vegeta. "Purehearted souls surround you, Prince Vegeta, including your son. While no mortal is perfect, you have done well with him."

"His _mother_ and I did," Vegeta said as he clutched Trunks' hand, "though his goodness is exceptional. Please, let him go now. He has a family. He should be with them. I don't care what happens to me."

The prince was at a loss. He had not felt this desperate for solutions in years. Clearly, the kais who had helped the Saiyans on Earth over the years couldn't assist, even if they wanted to.

"Are they not _your_ family also?" the wraiths intoned.

Feeling defeated, Vegeta bowed his head. He couldn't stop tears from falling this time. "Why can't I disconnect my soul from his? He can't die because of me."

Gohan, too, felt impotent watching him. "Please, stop this. They have been hurt enough."

The wraiths turned to him and said, "There is a solution. We want Trunks to join us, the ancients. He won't just be a traveler here, as others who learned from us have been."

"You want _what?_!" Gohan sped forward until the force field grabbed him. "Let me go! This is outrageous! You can't _just take_ Trunks to serve your purposes – whatever they are!"

"That _is not_ your decision," the expressionless wraiths said, adding, "especially because it is _an honor_ for him to be sought by us. Trunks is stronger than he believes – or his father believes."

This was too much for Vegeta. The ancients' condescension sparked a savage, feral rage within him. He had not fought over _a lifetime_ to atone for his transgressions, died twice, and helped others _for this_. He thought of his wife, who breathed life into his heart and gave life to their children.

 _Not now_. _Not ever_.

Vegeta's fists struck the ground, revealing the void's transparent surface. The wraiths' barrier closed in as white-hot sparks flew from his body. A dark haze emerged above as his eyes glowed silver, shocking Gohan. The prince spread his muscular arms wide, _absorbing_ the power surrounding him.

He cocked his head and smirked. "Now then, what _were_ you saying?"

BOOM!

Gohan's body tumbled as his vaporous restraints crumbled. Vegeta levitated above, in perfect control and unblemished, radiating a transcendent power that flamed silver-blue. Beyond the spirit bomb, not even Goku had mastered _energy_ _absorption_ this powerful, Gohan thought. This change outclassed the divine energy both Vegeta and Goku used in combat when necessary.

Gohan almost lost focus from astonishment.

"Take my son and leave," Vegeta ordered. His words bore down like rolling thunder. "Tell everyone I love them – _and you too_ , _boy_."

"The hell I will!" Gohan shouted as he grabbed Trunks. "Not this time! Do it yourself, asshole!"

Vegeta's power-up offered ample energy for Trunks to recover his senses. His eyes opened as his father fell forward. The mental connection he and Vegeta shared was broken.

"By the gods," Trunks said wearily. "Father..."

Gohan threw Trunks over his back and phased behind the unconscious prince to catch him. "Piccolo! Ella! Bring us back now! We're all here!"

The wraiths gathered as the Saiyans disappeared. They were highly impressed. A male figure with long white hair nodded at a female counterpart.

"Sister, I hope Prince Vegeta and his son recover adequately from our tests – and from their own. Maybe we were too hard on them and their bodies. Vegeta in particular is a sight to behold, challenging our powers like that. _Imagine if we really had inducted his offspring_. The same goes for Son Goku's progeny, although Gohan still has mental blocks limiting his maximum potential, as well."

"Yes, brother. But their dimension needs them all – and the kais support them. We must not be selfish."

"I suppose we shouldn't, sister. My goodness. You are feeling generous."

* * *

The morning was just beginning and Bulla was up. So was her sister-in-law, who sipped coffee and observed the rolling green fields from the estate's family library. Feeling chilled, Sonali adjusted her bathrobe to cover her chest more. Then she returned to the windows.

"You have to eat sometime, woman," Bulla said, hugging her from behind. The young woman had done this with her mother to comfort her. It worked with Sonali too sometimes.

"Worry about yourself, princess," Sonali replied, grasping Bulla's hands. "You're eating for two now. I wish you would have told us about the pregnancy earlier, before all of this happened."

Sensing Sonali's weariness, Bulla asked, "For what? Nope. No way. You and my brother already were having a hard enough time when daddy's condition got worse."

"I am having a hard time now, sweetie, and so are you."

Bulla pointed at Vegeta and Bulma's painted portrait. "You see that right there? That's my inspiration. Who would have thought those two would stay married long enough to form a bond like that? Every day I'm thankful for the good life they provided. When I'm sad, I remember how important it was to my parents for me to prosper without them. Now, damn it, let's go find breakfast before your twins _wreck_ the kitchen searching for my sweetened cereal!"

The women stood after hearing soft knocking. Bulla's husband Todd peeked through the door crack.

"May I come in?"

"Of course, darling," Bulla said, waving for him to enter. "We are headed for the kitchen."

"No, you're not," Todd replied with a hesitant sigh. "Let's go upstairs. Vegeta is waking up, finally. One of the twins got up and heard him."

Relieved, Bulla hugged her husband until Gohan entered. He had been at the estate for two weeks.

Sonali's hopeful gaze at him was met with silence.

"Not yet, honey," he said, shaking his head. "Not yet."

Sonali returned to the window. "At least my husband has his strength. Let's go see Vegeta."


	23. I'm Listening

**Recap: Vegeta' and Trunks' life force and consciousness have returned to their bodies after leaving the astral realm. The prince has awakened from an extended coma, while Trunks has not. Their family gathers around to support Vegeta as he claws back from grief over Bulma and depression. Vegeta also must prepare for his son's response after witnessing traumatic memories– if Trunks awakens at all.**

* * *

Sonali entered Trunks' sunlit room before joining the rest of the family. Her husband wore an oxygen mask but appeared as a sleeping, handsome pillar of strength. Upon leaving the astral realm, like Vegeta, his life force and mental awareness returned to his earthly body. Powdered Senzu beans were administered right away to restore their strength, which they did. But that's where recovery stopped. Soon after, Piccolo said the men's mental bond and the prince's unprecedented power-up had overwhelmed them.

"Scientifically, psychological shock just doesn't cause coma," Sonali responded with frustration. "All doctors know that," she added, and neither man had traumatic brain injuries or a stroke.

As a nurse, Ella gently reminded that this medical fact applied _to humans_. Maybe the men's condition was exclusive to Saiyans while experiencing severe mental duress. But Saiyans were astoundingly spirited, even when unsure of themselves. They lived for the extreme and trained holistically, mind and body, for combat. Sonali knew Vegeta had post-traumatic stress and depressive spells, but he had overcome so much. _Pride was his oxygen_. Even as he grieved for Bulma, the prince had retained some control during his breakdown - until death was imminent.

Sonali and Bulla were emotionally shaken but bravely considered their options, as Bulma would have. The heiress had narrated hardships, adventures, and joys to them for years. The Brief women were "unique and duty-bound, like the men who love us," she said cheerfully. At their core, Vegeta and Trunks were warriors for life, beyond their Saiyan lineage. So was Bulma, having faced dangers long before meeting the once-terrifying man who became her best friend and husband. Her brilliance was used for generosity and mortal combat, the prince said, and she held a rightful place among the world's greatest warriors. In different ways, the women left in her wake wanted to follow her example.

Piccolo banned further empathic involvement, saying it likely would do more harm. So they waited. Vital signs were checked, bed baths were given, and loving words were whispered to their warriors as the second week neared its end. Looking up, Sonali smiled brightly at her fine-looking twins. Their dark, shiny hair spiked just enough to resemble Vegeta's salt-and-pepper colored locks. The trait obviously skipped a generation, she thought. Maybe he would notice this time and be pleased.

"Mommy?"

"Hey, kiddos. Why aren't you with your grandfather?"

The children were expressionless.

"Elder wants you there," Tasmin said, taking her hand. "We'll stay with dad."

Sonali's palm shifted around the child's fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Just go, please," Tery said, walking behind them. "It's OK."

Her normally unruly children were too reserved, as if their grandfather's contemplativeness had possessed them. They should be thrilled by his awakening. She held her discomfort at bay, though, being the family matriarch now. Friends and relatives expected more as they mourned, but they also reciprocated lovingly. However, Sonali felt ambivalent about the twins' obvious efforts to protect her emotions. With a loving, steady hand, she stroked Trunks' cheek.

"Within thirty minutes I want you two dressed and eating breakfast. Then, you will exercise in the gravity room - followed by homework."

"Yes, mommy," the twins said without protest. Tasmin quickly shut the door after Sonali left, knowing that her brother was close to tears. He stood silently with his head down.

"Elder said it's fine to cry now, but only for a while," Tery said, his voice distant. "I just want him and dad to be OK."

Tasmin thumbed his tears away. "They will be," she said, hugging him. " _It is OK to cry._ Elder doesn't want us to keep it all inside, like he has. You heard what he said."

"Yeah," Tery said, following her to Trunks' bedside. "We all love you, dad. Elder needs you, just like us."

Trunks' heard his children's affectionate appeal, but something else called out to him. His consciousness retreated from both, while his body's rigidness hardened.

Sonali inhaled deeply before turning the doorknob. Didn't help. Her heart ached instead after entering. _"Bulma asked if I was ready to live as she had,"_ her mind intoned. _"No matter what."_

The prince was sitting up. A cloudy white haze shrouded his eyes where coloring had been. Sonali glanced at Bulla, crying on the floor, with Vegeta's hand on her head. Todd held her shoulders.

"This," Vegeta's baritone voice rumbled, "is temporary."

* * *

He was blind.

Now Sonali understood the children's reticence - or maybe they were traumatized? But then she felt calm, realizing that her father-in-law had taken charge. His expression confirmed it. Earlier, the worried medical aide left at Vegeta's request – and told to say nothing - after Tasmin heard them talking. He wanted to reassure the twins before seeing everyone else.

"If you believe it's temporary, then I trust that it is," Sonali replied after nodding at Gohan. "You both returned alive, Vegeta. That's all that matters. Whatever caused this problem, we'll figure out the rest."

"Piccolo will be here," Gohan said. "Don't worry about that."

The comforting compassion and determination in Sonali's reply wasn't lost on Vegeta. He brushed Bulla's hair back lovingly while searching for the right words.

"I hurt you all," he said. "I wasn't trying to, Sonali. Part of me wanted to stay – to live - but my other feelings. I…I…I am used to punishment. I'm sorry."

"We know you weren't trying to," Sonali replied softly. "You're so important to us. Let us bear witness to your hurt. We don't need all the secrets you shared with Bulma, but you aren't alone. Believe that. Let us help you now."

 _"They all have said that to me, with almost the same words,"_ Vegeta thought. He already had enough of attempts "to bear witness." Doing that damned near destroyed his son, mentally and physically. Thankfully, Trunks hadn't seen a quarter of his memories or secrets.

Sensing the prince's doubt, Gohan hoped Trunks would forgive him. Higher powers had. Vegeta wasn't Frieza. He had seized redemption and ran with it.

"Let me speak with Sonali alone," Vegeta said, lifting Bulla's chin. "I'm fine. You too, Gohan. Get out."

"Of course," Gohan said, smiling. His hand fell firmly on Vegeta's shoulder until they gripped palms. "You know I would do it all over again, my friend."

Vegeta waved him off as their hands separated. "I won't give you a reason again. And gods, please lay off the sentimentality. That's Kakarot's role."

Amused, Gohan bowed his head. "Dad has been here too, you know."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, Gohan, but he has other responsibilities - and so do you," Vegeta replied. "Kakarot and I will see each other again when I actually can _see_ him."

Everyone recognized what that meant. Vegeta wouldn't avoid his Saiyan brother-in-arms forever, but this ordeal had been hard enough on everyone. Goku's son walked in his father's footsteps with faith and openhandedness to rescue him, which could have been disastrous.

"I'll tell him," Gohan said. "I'm sure he will understand that you need time."

Bulla kissed Vegeta's cheek gently. "All right, daddy. Enough of that. Are you hungry?"

With one eyebrow arched with interest, Vegeta smirked. "Perhaps. There's something you're not telling me, though. Todd, you're terrible at keeping secrets. Cough it up, kid, before I break your jaw."

"Later, daddy," Bulla scolded, "and leave him alone." Wiping her face, she tried smiling confidently while Todd hugged her. Vegeta _would_ _see_ his next grandchild, the couple believed - blindness or not.

Sonali sat by him as they left. Despite his youthful appearance, he finally looked much older to her.

"You…are… so much like my wife sometimes."

Sonali opened his palm, placing a platinum ring inside. "So I've been told, dad."

"What is this? My wedding band? You're carrying my wedding band? But why?"

"You left it on the nightstand and, soon after, became extremely ill," Sonali replied. "I've carried it since then, hoping for this moment, to be ready. Put it on."

Vegeta stubbornly resisted breaking down, but it was difficult. "My wife believed I could do the right thing, and just about everything else she envisioned, even as I questioned myself. She sacrificed and loved me more than anyone I thought was capable. You're sacrificing, too. Trunks could have died."

"Bulma said I would face these challenges," Sonali replied. "The truth is I knew enough when I said my wedding vows. Your family has a strong presence, and you trusted me. My children are coming of age, as well. They will understand their father's choices, just as Trunks, Bulma, and Bulla understood yours."

Vegeta stood, lifting his hand to walk unassisted before Sonali tried to help. No furniture blocked his path; the room's echoing confirmed that. Chirping birds guided him to the balcony window.

"Sonali, it took everything in me to guard Trunks from my most difficult memories, but some got through to him. Until Piccolo explains more, I wonder if the forces we encountered imposed our comas protectively, before we left, so our bodies could fully recover from their interference. Maybe the Senzu beans wouldn't have been enough to strengthen us had they not."

"And your blindness?"

Vegeta held out his hand. "I can't say, but Trunks is my main concern. He's four doors down from here, yes?"

"Man, I wish could sense others like that," Sonali said. "Your son shows no mercy teasing me."

"You can learn, but that's not how I know," Vegeta whispered. " _You_ have become _addle-brained_ in my absence, woman, considering that only two rooms on this floor are fitted for medical equipment."

Laughing, Sonali held his arm. "I'm glad you're back, dad. I look forward to beating you at chess – again."

With a dramatic groan, Vegeta pinched her arm. "Your arrogance will be punished. Mark my words."

* * *

Vegeta sat next to Trunks' bed to listen. His son's breaths weren't raspy, rapid, or shallow. Of course they wouldn't be, he thought. But he still needed strong evidence, like any worried parent. Wisely, Sonali anticipated what he wanted next.

"Stay here alone as long as you need." she said. "I understand, but you also will eat and get some exercise."

Vegeta's head raised. "Let's get something straight, Sonali. I will do my best. I promised you that. However, I won't tolerate being handled like I'm a lost, neglected child – by anyone. I just…can't."

"I know," said Sonali. "I didn't mean to offend you. By the way, the children should be training in the gravity room by now."

Vegeta frowned. "Alone?"

Pleased with his sternness, she smiled. "Gohan is with them, _elder_. He told me telepathically."

Though annoyed at first, Vegeta liked that the twins had kept a structured training regimen, imposed by their mother no less. He was surprised they didn't tell him, though. Sonali backed away after he nodded approvingly.

"I _suppose_ that's acceptable," he said, placing a hand on Trunks' chest. "You may go now."

Whatever happened between Vegeta and Trunks required compassionate resolution and forgiveness, Sonali thought. Her father-in-law needed hope as much as she.

Vegeta had been blinded before. Lost part of an eye once, too, because of Goku. Luckily, a rejuvenation tank fixed that. Frieza one time had someone give him a drink to extinguish his eyesight, calling it essential "training." Though the condition was temporary, Vegeta had the misfortune of being dropped on a dangerous planet and expected to damn near kill every sentient creature to leave. Saiyans' hearing was top-notch, so that helped. Frieza was moderately satisfied but admonished Vegeta to apply and perfect his skills regardless of illness, fractures, mutilation, or dismemberment. The boy clearly had it in him anyway, Frieza thought, considering the abuse heaped on him already. Nappa rarely agreed with Frieza, except for this lesson - because in the end, the prince might live long enough to exact merciless revenge.

For now, darkness suited him.  
 **  
**"I know you've been smoking my cigars, son. _I just know it_. Of all the habits to pick up, why this one? I remember your fondness for that disgusting licorice candy Bulma bought. You couldn't stick with that? Nope. You just _had_ to take something from me, like when you were a boy. You have no idea how hard it was not to surrender at times. I suppose you were preparing me for your spoiled sister. She broke me. So yes, you got your sweet revenge."

Vegeta narrated Trunks' youth for almost two hours, his hand never leaving his son's chest. He longed to speak telepathically but instead orated until pain settled in his heart. Sighing, he stood to leave.

"You could have told me to leave fifteen minutes ago."

"You've always been nosy, Gohan," Vegeta said as he approached the door. "Plus, I'm hungry."

"Piccolo is here."

"I know."

Watching him closely, Gohan stood aside while Vegeta moved past. "Ella is here too."

"I suspected that, and I know what you're doing. I have memorized every square inch of my home, and my sense of smell and hearing are intact. I probably could kill an intruder faster than you if necessary."

" _Probably_ , Vegeta?"

The prince curved a finger to shut the door. They quietly walked several feet down the corridor until he stopped.

"Something wrong?" Gohan asked.

" _Not at all_ ," Vegeta snarled with a grin, "though you do _enjoy_ courting death with me." Pivoting, he pounded Gohan with a reverse punch, thrusting him backward. " _Gah!_ You insult me, taking that _minor_ hit without proper defense. You could at least try!"

Laughing warmly, Gohan retreated. "Somehow I knew we weren't having your funeral just yet." He paused, watching the prince's expression revert to an unreadable protective wall. "I don't believe Trunks will awaken blind, and I certainly don't believe he will reject you now. That's not who he is."

Though he couldn't see Vegeta looked back to the bedroom, listening.

* * *

 **Notes: Thank you for leaving comments on the last chapter. While writing, I wondered how Trunks eventually could accept the knowledge Vegeta shared about his difficult past, when Trunks was a boy, but not now. Perhaps it's easier to accept when assured that you weren't one of the casualties.**


	24. Picking Up the Pieces

**Recap: **Vegeta returned blind from his experience with Trunks and Gohan in the astral plane - the reason yet undeclared. Trunks remains comatose. Everyone considers how the fallout from the father and son's mental link earlier must be managed with love and understanding to preserve family unity.  
****

* * *

A disturbance.

Feeling uneasy, Ella returned upstairs. She may not have been a marathon runner, but adrenaline quickened the old nurse's pace. Before leaving the first floor she told Piccolo mentally to keep Sonali and the children occupied, perhaps rushing them outside. He disliked being ordered but knew the kids needed a stronger hand to contain them besides their mother, much like the precocious Trunks and Goten needed when they were children. Ella wasn't stupid and would protect herself, he knew.

She carried a medical syringe pen filled with a strong sedative, always, considering the people she dealt with. Her empathic senses blasted like fire alarms, compelling her to throw the syringe from the end of the corridor.

"Son! Take this! Take this! I feel it!"

Gohan's hand snapped upward, pulling in the syringe faster than normal eyes could floor. The door had flown open and he had no time to spare. _Damn it._

Trunks was awake… and furious.

No time to spare. Can't have the floor blown to smithereens.

The prince felt the surge before any of them. Drawing his arms down, he dived and yanked Trunks to the floor. Their forearms locked, with Vegeta increasing his ki to overpower the resistance.

Their collision sent shock waves careening on opposite sides, shattering equipment and buckling the floor outside of the room. Terrified, Ella had been far enough away to grab a pole until Piccolo steadied her. Gritting his teeth, the Namekian had to trust that Vegeta and Gohan could handle the aftermath. He and Ella had hoped to avoid another disturbance. Having Vegeta blinded was bad enough, despite the prince's expressed confidence about managing it.

Facing Ella, Piccolo said, "I rarely have regrets, but I wonder now if we all made the right decision."

"Well it's too late for that," she replied abruptly. "Second-guessing won't help. We didn't have many alternatives to reach Vegeta through conventional methods. He remains unwell, though."

Sonali ran forward until Piccolo blocked her path. "Tell me what happened – right now!" she demanded angrily. "Damn it! Let me go! Are they hurt?!"

Ella used her empathic touch to soothe her. "Sonali, look at me, dear. Where are the children? Are they with Bulla and Todd?"

Sonali exhaled and said, "Yes. They all know to stay put, but they're scared."

"Very good," Ella replied. "Very good. They will be fine."

Nodding toward the end of the corridor, Piccolo said, "Trunks powered up, but he's having some kind of mood disturbance, apparently."

Sonali stared down the hallway, which was eerily quiet now. "What does that mean?"

"Trunks is enraged," Piccolo replied. "Ella sensed it. He wouldn't increase his power unless he felt threatened. Nevertheless, they're sealed in there for now. They are subduing him."

Bulma long ago retrofitted the mansion to withstand powerful attacks. Trunks' room doubled as a gravity training facility and protective chamber, with a vault entrance. Walls on both sides moved backward, pushing the adjacent rooms farther apart. Black shooter bots dropped from the ceiling, scanning their bodies. These machines were for show, actually. Most of the more sophisticated equipment had been capsulized for emergency use.

Gohan plunged the syringe into Trunks' arm. The sedative worked fast. Had Trunks already not been disoriented from the coma, their fight probably would have lasted longer. Both Vegeta and Gohan remained guarded. After all, as fighters, none relied on strength alone. No man in that room was unfamiliar with using deception and confidence-shattering methods to subdue opponents.

Panting with anger, Trunks directed a gruff warning to Vegeta. "Get the hell off of me, or risk having…"

"Passcode in fifty seconds," a bot said as it circled overhead.

"Andromeda," Vegeta said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Andromeda."

Trunks' slow-moving, slightly unfocused eyes observed his attackers. Though lightheaded, he was fully aware of himself. Vegeta disturbed him especially, but he had no leverage. This older blind man with streaks of silver-grey hair was exceedingly powerful. Yet, despite their age difference, they could have been twins. What kind of strategy was this?

Gohan locked power-draining bracelets on Trunks' wrists and placed him on floor mattress pad.

"Well, this is a surprise," Trunks said sarcastically. "I guess the woman got bored. Tell her nice work on the room. You too, old man. Great job tackling me. I guess I should be afraid of you now."

Vegeta sat up. "What do you mean _the woman_? Who is that?"

Trunks realized his mistake. He refused to blame the drug. He was smarter than this. Besides, Bulma could be anywhere – probably safe. His feelings got in the way. "You can stop with these damned hologram games!"

"No, you stop it!" Vegeta barked. "What is wrong with you?"

"Let's play a game," Trunks said defiantly, eyes focusing on Gohan. "I'm not saying shit – and who the hell are you? You resemble that idiot Kakarot."

Gohan didn't say anything. Instead, he looked at Vegeta. As a father and friend, he felt empathy for the prince. This time Trunks wasn't possessed. He had a separate identity altogether: Vegeta's. His speech pattern and cheeky defiance copied the prince's behavior as a younger man flawlessly.

 _"Vegeta, don't say anything else for a few, OK?"_

 _"You may continue with him,"_ the prince replied mentally.

Impatient, Trunks said, "Did you lose your ability to speak in complete sentences, whatever your name is? No, wait. You're looking at the old man. You must be speaking telepathically. Can I play along too?"

Gohan sighed. "I am Goku's son."

Trunks smirked at him. "Wow, where the hell _have you_ been - on another fucking planet? Actually, Kakarot is relatively young to have fathered you, though we Saiyans are rather…attractive… as we age. Now cut the crap."

Stone-faced, Vegeta pushed Gohan's sympathetic hand away from his shoulder. Had his son's mind broken completely? He and Trunks had been through so much together. What would he tell their family?

"How old are you, Vegeta?" the prince asked.

"None of your fucking business!" Trunks snarled. "It's only a matter of time before I free myself – and kill you. If you want something from me, then get to it!

"And what if I said doing that would guarantee the woman's demise?" Vegeta replied. "Because she certainly would die – or maybe she's dead already. You cannot feel her ki here anyway, right?"

Trunks' eyes narrowed from palpable anger. Vegeta's voice exuded precise, exacting coldness that differed from the callous, rebellious tone of his youth – and his son's silence indicated that he had the upper hand, at least for now. He had hoped that Trunks hadn't accessed these memories during their mental bond, but the imprint and attitude were all there.

"That's more like it, commander," he said. "So she means more to you than we thought, apparently. For someone so smart, you've done a terrible job hiding your feelings. Shall we continue?"

Gohan understood the approach but thought that Vegeta's deceptive role-playing could backfire. Beyond that, Vegeta must have been distraught and frightened seeing Trunks unstable like this again after hoping for better. Calmly addressing another "replica" attested to the prince's brave determination, but Gohan had to consider Vegeta's mental stabilty too.

 _"Vegeta, listen to me…."_

 _"Gohan, I am nearing my limit listening. Trunks responds to me as I would have back then. I feared little except for Frieza and the Ginyu Force, but that didn't stop me from trying to kill them when I believed I could. Sometimes my defiance served me well; other times it got my ass kicked, as you know. Regardless, I need to know…how far gone my son is."_

 _"I just don't want you to blame yourself,"_ Gohan replied. _"This isn't your fault."_

 _"Oh, I don't,"_ Vegeta said as he angrily clenched his fists. _"I blame you and Piccolo! This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't convinced Trunks to access my memories in that place - without considering how his mind would be affected. I said that many times over to you when we were there!"_

Trunks' identity had fragmented, and indeed the prince had blamed himself. Gohan said nothing more, understanding this. The ever-observant Trunks - his face a cryptic, impenetrable wall – shrewdly recognized the older man was troubled. Perhaps he could exploit this weakness. His captors must have disagreed during their telepathic exchange - but ignoring him much longer would be foolish.

Besides, the restraint on his left arm was defective. Trunks smirked, considering how the older man mocked him earlier. He felt relaxed and focused. Maybe they picked the wrong tranquilizer.

Maybe not.

Lifting a finger on the unrestrained hand – yeah, well, that shit was tough. The drug's creators were effective. Adding a "truth serum" would have perfected the concoction, though.

Amateurs.

He was the prince of all Saiyans, damn it! He once had been shot through the heart, crushed underneath an enraged, uncontrollable Oozaru, and had an eye blown out.

His captors played a children's game, even with their strength.

Trunks' re-enactment of his father's attitude and behavior was indisputable. Memories of Vegeta's initial years with Bulma, before he was conceived, and earlier were all there.

Everything.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

Vegeta couldn't leave Trunks' mind stewing much longer. He almost could hear his son's plotting against them.

Pitiless realty faced him. No spiritual rescue mission could help his son. From the beginning, despite being deeply depressed, Vegeta had been aware that he _was_ Vegeta throughout his time in the astral plane with Gohan and Trunks.

Severe trauma had Trunks within its suffocating grip, compounded by traumatic memories from Vegeta's younger days. He needed medical attention.

Naturally, Vegeta harbored suspicion of "mental health care" on Earth, even if he could have benefited. He recognized Bulma's need while she was ill. However, he wasn't human, came from a warrior race, and endured decades of sadistic attempts to break him - and he had been a killer. For years family had been his mental health care – depressive episodes and nightmares notwithstanding. While serving under Frieza, conscripted "doctors" and empaths abused their psychological expertise – or were forced to. After Vegeta was introduced to mind-altering drugs, the former continued dispensing them. Their exams kept him functional and effective between beatings, reconnaissance missions and bloody planet purges, and Frieza's mind games and fetishes.

Sure, the trauma was there. Always would be. But he wanted better for Trunks – whatever it took. Yet they both needed someone trustworthy to help, who could handle dark truths. Until that help was available Trunks remained unpredictable and manipulative – and perhaps dangerous.

Bulma felt that way about Vegeta after he moved in, but the prince recalled her expecting better – believing that he could do better. She resolved to broaden his definition of hope. He fought back. She fought back. They became lovers and, later, friends – the best gifts that life offered to them.

She did not shun him.

Vegeta didn't want their family to fear Trunks – to shun him – because they needed each other. Still, how much more would Sonali find out that she didn't need to know? Would Trunks reveal details just to upset her? Would he lie about his health to sow mistrust within their family? Everyone was vulnerable now.

So much to consider.

Gohan glanced at Trunks, whose eyes scanned his body's dimensions. All fighters had weak spots – mentally and physically. Frieza's outsized, insufferable ego contributed to his celebrated demise.

Laughing, Trunks mocked them again. "Let me guess. You're preparing for prayer! You're monks!"

Gohan thanked the universe for his training. One needed a strong constitution to deal with _any_ version of the prince, real or imagined.

Addressing Vegeta, he asked, "What would you like me to do?"

"I want to be alone with him," Vegeta replied, waving him off. "We'll be fine. Divide our chamber and stay in there until I call you."

Gohan nodded. "As you wish." He didn't express doubts about leaving. Of course Vegeta knew.

The prince sat in kneeling position, as if he were preparing for katas. "Care to join me?"

"No." Trunks' face reflected a mixture of contempt and curiosity. The man didn't seem to be taunting him, but his suspicion ruled.

"I almost always begin our workouts like this now," Vegeta continued. "One of the best parts of being this age is looking back and seeing how much you've mastered – and recognizing the possibilities for more. I have learned how to tame my impatience to be more productive. My motivation, however, hadn't changed for years until my wife became ill and died. But it's still there. Yours is there too, son. I am sorry that you're hurting so much."

"You're babbling like a crazy person, old man," Trunks said dismissively, "What happened to that bullshit tough-talking from earlier? Now you're calling me your son? By gods, I can't believe my misfortune!"

"Maybe I am babbling," Vegeta said. "Maybe I am - but I trust my motivation. You are my motivation."

Trunks looked away. He would use the man's sentiments against him - but he had to test the prince's instincts first. Getting his way would take time. He also hated not knowing how to reach Bulma. Where was she? Though this man who seemed disinterested in harming him, blind trust didn't come naturally.

He closed his eyes and said, "Yes, father. I'm here. I'm sorry. I'm just… so confused. Help me."

Vegeta's arms folded over his knees. "Just because I'm blind doesn't mean that I can't see through you."

* * *

 **Notes: Recovery depends on where Vegeta and Trunks turn for help. Let's not judge the prince harshly for believing Trunks needs help for trauma that he's denied himself over a lifetime. More so, who is trustworthy enough?**


	25. Just Stay Here With Me

**3/29/19: Thank you for reading, friends. I could offer a thousand reasons why this story has been hard to return to, but I'm back and will keep this promise to finish.**

 **Recap:** **Vegeta is contending with blindness and his son's traumatic mental breakdown. Trunks has "become" his father after witnessing memories from Vegeta's younger days. Vegeta and Gohan have restrained him to protect everyone. The family is reeling after a psychological-mystical rescue mission of Vegeta, who had been near death from depression and grief over Bulma's passing. The Namekian sage Piccolo and Ella, an empath and longtime family friend, are helping them.  
**

* * *

Trunks wanted to crush the man's skull into to dust. The prince of all Saiyans wouldn't be mocked! And once again, he felt like an idiot. Here he was, restrained and trapped with a crazy person also calling himself "Vegeta." Fate kept him alive after the horrors of Frieza on Namek, and for what? Perhaps death should have been permanent, despite his vengeful desire to battle Kakarot again.

"Pathetic," the real Vegeta said. "You've become soft already, fraternizing with these low-class humans. What a piss-poor attempt at playing with my emotions. _'Yes, father. I'm just… so confused.'_ You thought I would fall for that garbage?"

"Me?!" Trunks bellowed. "I'm pathetic?! You miserable, nasty son of a bitch! You have me bound and drugged, standing by someone you say is Kakarot's son - who I know is a half-breed - and have the fucking _nerve_ to call me low class?! Fuck you and the space ship you showed up in!"

"That's the spirit!" Vegeta said, laughing like a father would after winning a game. "I started to worry about my reputation, although I don't remember cursing that much at your age."

He knew that statement was a crock of shit.

Trunks spat at him. "If you're really me, from what I see, _you_ are the soft one. You stayed on this awful planet and had a child, presumably with a human beneath your station. _I planned to leave_. You couldn't bring yourself to kill poor Kakarot either, apparently. His brat wouldn't help be helping you otherwise."

Though blinded, Vegeta's furious narrowed eyes clashed like fire with Trunks' defiant ones. The prince wanted to kick his ass for _that_ insult. In the past, offenders who spat on him risked being dismembered viciously. Back then Vegeta didn't need much incentive to macerate bones and shred tendons after such disrespectful treatment.

However, this development could be positive. Trunks might be testing for personality similarities, he thought.

 _His attempt to trip my trigger shows doubt, perhaps._ Vegeta cracked his neck, wiping spittle from his neck and face. "Oh, my friend, you'd be surprised about _many_ developments. The irony is you think you're getting out alive with my memories in that body. Spit on me again, and so help me, _you might not_."

Visibly pleased after needling Vegeta, Trunks sneered. "Well then, which one is it? Kill or torture me slowly with more inane prattle?"

"You haven't mentioned the woman," Vegeta said. "Bulma, right? You're concerned. That's good. She has been helpful to you - sheltered you since you left Namek."

Awash in his father's most personal memories, Trunks felt Vegeta's internal emotional conflict over Bulma. He said nothing, though, searching for any vulnerabilities to exploit. He also moved closer to freeing his hand. One carefully positioned finger could blow a neat little hole between the man's eyes.

Vegeta appeared emotionless but was far from it. Discussing his wife _like this_ burned like acid injected in his veins, but he had to work through the pain. "The first day after Bulma and I woke up in bed together, I wondered aloud, 'What hell did we just do?' I was vexed and appalled. She was unfazed, calling it a 'natural progression of events' and daring me to throttle her. Then she laughed, and we continued where we left off."

 _Shit. How could he know?_ Trunks' stony expression fractured from genuine horror. _Is this some kind of time-travel thing here? This…can't be._

"She drove me up a wall with her intrusiveness, taunts, and demands," Vegeta continued. "Of course, she summed me up entirely as a giant pain in the ass. I was OK with that. I got what I wanted and saw firsthand whether she could live up to her boasting. She did, beyond anything I could ever imagine. I… was terrified of and angry about my feelings for her."

"Stop it," Trunks growled.

"Why?" Vegeta's breaths dragged with each recollection. Tears welled as his head fell. "You feel _all of it_ now. You see how empty your life is. You see the horrible things done to you and what you did to others. You're asking yourself -"

"Stop it!" Trunks' left index finger cocked, gathering enough ki for a bulls-eye shot. He would set himself free afterward. He had to get out. "Enough! Enough!"

He couldn't bring himself to kill this man. He didn't recognize him. How could this be him? He didn't want to recognize him. But he wasn't him? Who was he then?

He wanted to scream. So he did, at the top of his lungs. Louder and louder.

"I loved her so much," Vegeta said, his voice broken from heartache. "She gave me you. She gave me you, Trunks! I didn't deserve either, and yet I became one of the richest men alive because of your love. But you -you, son - deserve so much more. _You aren't me._ Please come back to your family, your wife and kids. You bring so much good to this world. _You aren't me_."

"I _said_ enough." Trunks broke through his restraints, fully raising his hands to take aim. He stood across from Vegeta, bleary-eyed. "You had enough time to protect yourself. I'm done with it. You should have stopped while you were ahead."

Vegeta could have stopped him much earlier. He knew the pressure points. They were weak spots now. For better or worse, at that age the prince would have killed or harmed any captor within milliseconds of breaking his restraints. Then after finding Bulma, if the offender remained alive, he would deliver "justice."

"Killing me won't help, but I will not fight you, son. I have no desire to kill you to protect myself. I have… nothing left to lose."

Gohan had heard enough, too. " _Vegeta, damn it, he's hesitating but that might change. You have to subdue him again. If you don't, I will. You can't risk your life again like this."_

 _"Shut up and stay there! I am his father. This is not your call now."_ Vegeta appreciated Gohan's concern but couldn't tolerate more interruptions. The younger man felt their telepathic link snap apart, with no way to reach the prince in that manner again. _  
_  
"What do you mean you have nothing left to lose?" Trunks fell back on his knees, distraught and trembling."You are OK with letting me kill you? You have just as much to lose. How _dare you_ put me in that position to choose, father."

Vegeta crawled to embrace his sobbing son. "I knew you wouldn't kill me, just like you believed I wouldn't when you and Gohan were helping me before. I was every bit as dangerous. You've said all along that we'll get through this. Let's believe those words together."

"I'm sorry, father. I remember some events, but I'm unclear on others. What all did I say or do? How long was I out before this?"

"Doesn't matter." Vegeta held him tighter, remembering the bright little boy who proudly followed his papa everywhere. "It's fine. You're back. You saw parts of my life I _purposely_ locked away. Any man with a good heart like yours could be driven insane."

"What happened to your eyes?" Trunks touched his father's face. "Are you really blind?"

"I am." Vegeta's hands beat the floor, drumming a code to integrate the room's chambers and allowing Gohan to re-enter the room normally. "You don't remember recognizing it earlier?"

Gohan bent down next to Trunks, who wouldn't look at him. "Hey, little brother. I always knew this cranky old bastard could bring you back to your senses."

"Liar," Vegeta said as he locked fists with Gohan, who smiled reassuringly. "I've never felt so insulted in my life. I will remember your lack of faith, boy."

Trunks looked like he had aged a decade. Gohan sized up both men, realizing that his friend struggled with depression too. But unlike his father, maybe Trunks never told anyone. His exposure to Vegeta's traumas - and possibly a genetic trait - may have kicked him over the edge. That's how it appeared now.

"Son, listen to me, let's get you to another different room," Vegeta ordered firmly. "You need to eat and get settled again. Sonali has been incredibly strong, much like your mother would be, but she and my grandchildren miss you."

"No." Feeling ashamed, Trunks shook his head. "I want to sleep. I'm tired and feel terrible. I know everyone has been by my side, but the kids shouldn't see me emerging from the worst of this. We've asked a lot of them since you became ill."

Vegeta reached for Gohan's arm, seeking to speak telepathically. _"I don't -"_

 _"I want you to step back, Vegeta."_ Gohan grasped his shoulder, steadying him. _"It's OK. Think about what happened with you. This is what depression and trauma do. That's why he's withdrawing now. It's not permanent."_

 _"What do you mean?"_ Vegeta tried not to appear hurt. _"He needs to see his family, no to be hidden away."_

He never wanted to hear "depression" again, especially not to his son. He would move heaven and Earth to keep Trunks from staying in that sinkhole he just left himself.

Wiping tears away, Ella entered thinking about Trunks' similar reaction to Vegeta's condition earlier. _"They love each other so much,"_ she said telepathically to Gohan. _"They need each other. I'm scared for them both now. I wanted -"_

 _"They will be fine,"_ Gohan replied, reaching for her hand. _"Trunks took a huge, brave risk. He and Vegeta can heal together now. That's how it should be."_

 _"Let's not forget the jeopardy you faced,"_ Ella said, sensing hesitation from him. _"And what are you not telling me, young man?"_

 _"Ella, before I ask this question, I want you to know I'm not accusing you. However, do you know Trunks had depression?"  
_

 _"I could not confirm it,"_ she said. _"_ _He has bottled many feelings. If you're asking, then you must believe it. That's why I had reservations about our plan with Piccolo to pull Vegeta from within his own memories."_

"Why are you crying, woman?" Vegeta asked. "I know it's you. You sniffle and bawl like a truck horn. Stop that."

"Hush," Ella said, gently kissing his head. "I will not tolerate your troublemaking, you crusty coot. I do not care that you are as blind as a bat."

Vegeta smirked and said, "You know, I almost believe you - but I am _not_ easily fooled. My eyesight will return, so stop fretting."

Gohan cringed uncomfortably at their banter, especially with Trunks there, but he understood. Ella's taunts could tear Vegeta to pieces, and the prince treasured her for that. Besides his wife and daughter-in-law, no one did it better. He needed to feel somewhat normal again, because his family's ordeal was far from over.

Trunks felt foggier as they brought him to his feet. All of the energy he had earlier, which almost blew apart their home, seemed to vanish.

Vegeta felt his son's' energy level waver sluggishly, knowing it would soon become dormant. "Let's get you into the rear bedroom, son. It's more comfortable." _  
_  
Gohan nodded, recognizing what Vegeta felt. "Hey, you're still feeling aftereffects from the drug we used. It will wear off soon. At least let Sonali see you. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

Ella promptly left to find her, passing by Piccolo's watchful eyes. She snorted, expressing annoyance with his silent warning. He honestly respected the old nurse even more after her sacrifices to help Vegeta. But he had no problem reminding her that a right time may never come to reveal her Tuffle identity. Emotions would run high for a while. Telling Trunks had been enough, he believed.

Sensing Piccolo's presence, Vegeta stopped as Gohan and Trunks left. "Namekian, we have an overdue conversation."

"That's a lie," Piccolo replied, following him out. "We never stopped having one, whether we liked it or not."

"I am furious about you allowing Trunks to risk his welfare, but... I can offer thanks for giving everyone hope. I am back now."

"You are rightfully entitled to your anger, Vegeta, and my support does not end here. I will help in any way as Trunks reconciles with his experience. You too, starting with your blindness. We must go to the Guardian's Lookout for Dende to help heal you."

Vegeta placed his right hand on the wall, guiding himself along the damaged floor. He sensed almost everyone's energy levels in the house, of course, and if necessary could find them quickly. But he never accepted the status quo. No reason to give death or other unpleasant outcomes a helping hand.

"You seem to believe this might not be permanent," he said somberly.

"Of course not." Piccolo appeared surprised - almost offended - by the suggestion. "I thought you believed the same."

"I said that to reassure my family. I damned near blasted a hole in that astral plane space - or whatever you call it - to save my son and Gohan. What if this is something like a punishment?"

Piccolo pulled his cape over his shoulders. "Well we can't find out by speculating here."

"Dad?" Sonali walked up to Vegeta, who immediately took her hand. She hugged her father-in-law, reminding that she wouldn't blame him. "I told you I can get through this, but that was terrifying."

Hearing her profound fear hurt Vegeta deeply. He pushed thoughts aside about the times Bulma worried about his welfare like this - and hers. He straightened himself, appearing more confident for Sonali's benefit.

"Trunks' senses have returned, but he remains somewhat disoriented. I know it's hard, but please try not to be frightened. He won't hurt you. He needs you with him right now more than me."

"I'll come with you," Ella said, rubbing Sonali's back as they approached the rear bedroom. "I believe I can keep him calm now with my empathic abilities."

Sonali stopped her, shaking her head. "I trust what Vegeta says."

"I understand, dear," Ella replied, but it was difficult. The idea of Trunks enduring another dissociative episode _like that_ unnerved her, although she didn't show it then. Having him go down and Vegeta relapse would be everyone's worst nightmare. She couldn't let that happen under her watch again.

Sonali's stomach tied in knots. Gohan stood over her half-awake husband as she entered. She covered her mouth, withholding a sob, as their friend brought her closer. She had waited patiently and bravely for this reunion. Her right hand landed upon Trunks' left.

He offered his familiar easy, loving smile. Satisfied with their reunion, Gohan left the room.

"Baby, I knew you weren't ready to leave us yet," Sonali said, running her fingers through her husband's hair.

"Are you sure about that, beautiful?" Trunks asked sleepily. "You aren't hiding it well."

Weariness lined his face differently, Sonali noticed. Vegeta looked similarly when depression over Bulma's death captured him. She sighed, preparing for their next trial.

"I'm fine, although I'm pissed about these grey hairs your adventures have given me."

"How about a kiss then? How long has it been?"

Sonali kicked her shoes off to climb in bed. "Almost three weeks, and I'm _not_ kissing you until your teeth are brushed thoroughly."

"I'm so tired, baby," Trunks said. "So tired. There's so much. I almost feel like father and I have switched places."

"That's kind of what happened. But as I told you before of this all started, as well as to Vegeta, you cannot carry the hardest parts of your troubles alone. Can you discuss some of it? I'm here to listen."

Trunks' mind drifted, recalling Vegeta's account of the woman who slaughtered children over fears about their father's future. His half-siblings were brutally denied love and happiness, unlike him and his sister.

Perhaps he felt survivor's guilt.

"Not right now," he told his wife. "Just stay here with me."

* * *

 **Let me know what you think in the comments if you can. They always help with my perception.**


	26. Uninterrupted Unconsciousness

**Recap: Vegeta helped Trunks reunite navigate through an emotional episode and reunite with their family after they both regained consciousness. Time has passed since their ordeal and everyone is trying to find normalcy. Trunks, however, has been left to grapple with memories that weren't meant for him to keep.**

* * *

"I brought you cherry pie, Vegeta. Eat."

Ella pushed a dessert plate into his hands. The prince had been outside for about an hour, sitting on a bench near Bulma's flower garden. His grandson Tery had been rising earlier to go with him. This time he sent him back to bed after they arrived.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing for another inevitable argument he had not sought. "It's six in the morning. Pie is not the first food selection on my mind."

Undeterred as usual, Ella raised her voice with motherly firmness. "Then come inside. I have other options."

"You always do, along with uninvited opinions about everything," Vegeta said, making room for her on the bench. "That is a high cost for my companionship - and I'm blind, _not deaf_. Now what do you want?"

He accepted his favorite dessert as a peace offering but ate slowly, knowing Ella would take a competitive win if he gobbled it down instead.

"To worry less, I suppose, Vegeta. That's what…I want."

"You're too old to change that, just like I'm too old to give a damn," he said, nudging her impishly. "Dende says give his healing another month. My blindness arose from an 'abnormal' paranormal event. I tried to keep a straight face hearing him say that, but I still prefer that Namekian's hocus-pocus than earthlings' medical quackery. He has a good track record…with me. At least I can tell the difference between light and dark now."

Ella jabbed a fork into his pie, displeased by his stubbornness. She had special abilities too, but they didn't compromise her beliefs about solid, fact-based medical care.

"Your wife might have thought otherwise, being a scientist."

"So does my daughter-in-law, being a scientist," Vegeta retorted, "and recall that some treatments we expected to work well after Bulma's stroke _didn't_. But my wife also spent her life embracing life in ways others struggled to understand - including me."

"You had radically different upbringings," Ella said. She lowered her fork, realizing her words stepped too far over the edge.

Vegeta paused, considering whether to pounce or let the subject die. "Just _how much_ have you known about me all along?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I have to return to the kitchen," Ella replied, taking his half-empty plate. "The rest of the family -"

"Can wait," Vegeta said calmly, grasping her arm. "Sit down. You invited yourself out here, so do me _the courtesy_ of answering my question."

Ella wanted to punch herself - hard. Not once had Vegeta given her any reason to fear him, but she understood why others would, even now. His intuitive watchfulness never ceased, no matter how comfortable he appeared.

"We've discussed this. I don't know all of what the family knows intimately about your past, especially not Trunks, Piccolo, and Gohan and his father."

"There are others," Vegeta said, "all of them my wife's friends, originally. You met them. None are invested in digging up more of my history, beyond what they've seen in recent memory. The pros of my survival outweigh the cons for everyone now, more or less. I'm sure Piccolo said that to you."

"Something like that," Ella agreed, "but you are held in much higher regard, in my opinion. You know how I feel."

Vegeta laughed, reflecting on her statement. "I never thought I'd witness you donning rose-colored glasses _about me_. Please, take them off. If you're living here permanently, then that's my demand for rent. I still have the last word in this home."

"So be it." Ella tapped her foot impatiently. "Glasses are removed. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually." Vegeta grasped the edges of the bench, looking down. "I know you aren't human. You are an émigré, likely from an important family. And clearly you were well-educated before coming here, helping you to fit in well. Also, since you arrived alone, maybe your people were at war - or close to it? Whoever sent you also hoped to make it a reconnaissance mission, I bet. Shall I continue? _There's much more_."

Vegeta's keen psychological gaze sawed straight through Ella. She, the empath, felt the tables turn with someone she trusted.

She had been warned.

"I never lied to you," she said, hoping to hide her desperation. "I didn't."

"I know. Don't let emotion blur your judgment after my ordeal. Confessions should be weighed against the seriousness of one's offenses. So tell me, have you committed an offense worthy of exposing _to me_ now? Is your guilt that heavy?"

"Vegeta -"

He held up his hand. "OK. Think of it like this. You would have been dead a long time ago if I _moderately_ sensed a threat - and quickly, I might add. I'm good at it. Did it for years. I trust you completely with my family's welfare. _That_ is my imprimatur. Got it?"

Ella cleared her throat, feeling relieved that Vegeta's smooth, exacting interrogation had ended. Sharing her full identity was pointless. He had made that clear.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Will you come in the damned house now?"

Vegeta stood, gallantly holding his left arm out to her. "I learned this chivalry rubbish from Bulma. My acrobatic skills were the only tools that kept me from looking stupid as I practiced waltzing for our daughter's wedding. Take advantage before my mood sours."

"I remember," Ella said, joining arms with him. "You did well - and didn't look sour on the dance floor either. So you've always been extremely light on your feet, I take it."

"Heh," Vegeta grunted, recalling more enjoyable fights. "Ask Kakarot to share a few stories without me there. He does a tolerable impersonation of me."

Sonali held Trunks' waist as they watched Ella and Vegeta from their bedroom window. He faced his wife, moving her closer as they kissed.

"He's out there every day."

"Twice a day," Sonali replied. "He's training like a pro, though. I watched yesterday from the monitor in Bulma's lab. It's even more amazing seeing him battle with the bots."

Trunks shrugged. "I can assure you that he doesn't think so - not unless they're programmed a step below shoot-to-kill. He's likely bored. I have seen him fight blindfolded before in the simulation chamber. Good hearing compensates."

"And his heightened sensitivity to energy levels."

"Well, yes. He doesn't use one-thousandth of his power range, if that. Practicing in his base form like that can be a pain, especially alone, but that core training never outlives its usefulness."

"Trunks, honey, you study everything the man does. Just talk to him. He's giving you space because he respects you, but after everything that's happened, I just think -"

"No, Sonali," Trunks said, turning away abruptly. "I made myself clear."

Sonali's lips pursed. Trunks knew she hated being interrupted before finishing an important thought, and yet he did it anyway. "Just let me finish, OK?"

" _I don't want to train with my father._ He was right from the beginning, before we moved back home, about working without him. He would ask if he wanted me present - period. He's usually clear about his desires, _as you know_."

Trunks flinched as Sonali accidentally dropped her hairbrush. He departed for the sitting room agitated and pensive. His mind's cutoff switch flipped again, pushing his wife's appeals aside. Noisier, more caustic mental invaders waged war. He had to fight them.

His eyes shifted with caution. He couldn't lie down anywhere without making sure the room's shadows would remain shadows.

Sonali didn't want to leave him alone, but she couldn't lead Capsule Corporation in absentia any longer either. She had to set a vision for the company's future and reassure employees about theirs. Bulma and Dr. Brief had been larger-than-life role models, with unfailingly loyal workers. Thankfully Sonali had the support of Bulma's sister Tights, who became the company's board chairman and tolerated foolishness from no one.

She picked up her leather shoulder bag, peeking into the other room. "I have to leave for headquarters soon. Maybe you could join me later for lunch on the cafeteria patio? Let some of the ladies drool over your good looks for a while."

Numbness had replaced Trunks' ability to laugh then. He wanted solitude now, tiring of his wife hassling him about what he should do.

"I'll think about it," he said listlessly. "But my parents chose you to make the most out of our inheritance. I have the support I need without being under your microscope twenty-four seven. Do what you need to do."

Left with no options to reconnect with him, Sonali patted the door frame. "Bye. I love you."

"Bye."

Sonali left feeling worse and alone in a way she never expected with the man who had been her best friend and caring lover. She stopped in the main dining room for an oat muffin and fruit, hoping to avoid contact with anyone. Ella usually left snacks around for the family between larger meals.

She dug out a crumbling chunk from the craggy, mountain-sized muffin, stuffing it in her mouth. "No one ever said this would be smooth sailing. One day at a time."

"For what?"

"Shit!" A surprised Sonali swung around, dropping the muffin. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Vegeta said, looking amusingly innocent. He was far from it, of course. "Why are you up this early?"

"Maybe I learned a thing or two from you," Sonali snapped, then caught herself, expression softening. "I can get more thinking done at the main office. That's all."

Vegeta tapped each chair, making his way toward her. He counted every object these days if it wasn't thrown at him for sport.

"I thought you wanted to work here on Fridays, to be with the twins and sleep-in later."

Feeling teary, Sonali touched Vegeta's cheek lovingly. She spoke with a steady tone to hide her hurt. "Bye, dad. I'm fine. I love you. Remember what you told me about getting soft? I'm flexing my corporate muscles today. I'll make you proud."

Vegeta wasn't fooled. She only touched him this way when upset. Trunks played a role, obviously. "I am already proud, and you are not fine, but I'll leave you to your thoughts for now."

"I…gotta go. Expect Trunks to come down later."

"How is he sleeping?"

"He shouldn't use narcotics in his condition to sleep - at all. The new medication he's on appears to be working. His nightmares are decreasing. That's why he left for bed early last night before the kids could spend time with him. He needs the rest. Dad, I really must go now."

"Yes, yes," Vegeta replied. "I won't keep you any longer."

"Appears to be working" is not reassuring, he thought. His daughter-in-law's exit left him wondering what more he could do. The buoyant light that fled from his son's eyes was nowhere close to returning. Sonali's voice indicated that. He wasn't hurt that Trunks avoided training in any way with him. Gohan and Piccolo offered disciplined, meditative company as "therapy." That had been the prince's plan anyway, before tragedy struck the family with Bulma's death. Although Goten didn't follow in his father or older brother's path, he helped by taking twins to have the kind of lighthearted fun he and Trunks experienced as childhood best friends.

Everyone tried.

Tery and Tasmin appeared unsure more often about being near their father, worrying Vegeta most. Trunks was a sturdy soul as a boy, largely ignoring his father's awkwardness showing affection "normally." But the twins unmistakably had an effusive, emotionally available father from day one. That's all they knew from Trunks. As their grandfather, Vegeta didn't want to be seen as a replacement for the _living man_ who gave them life.

He sat down at the head of the table, finishing his coffee. _You said I would be fine looking after two generations of our family without you. Thanks a lot, Bulma. At least I don't want to die anymore. I suppose that's a good start, but don't complain if I take my sweet time seeing you again._

He lit a cigar. He had earned the right to smoke in the house….just once.

Ella brought him an ash tray and left.

* * *

Trunks picked up the bottle of sleeping pills that had become a godsend for getting through the night without awakening sweat-drenched from nightmares. He wasn't taking the other drug, despite being told it worked well for these episodes. For him, proper rest meant total uninterrupted unconsciousness a few rungs above death. He started sleeping in the sitting room after a particularly chilling vision one night of Frieza's tail around his neck, dragging him away helpless and drugged to be sodomized against his will.

Whom could he tell? The man who likely experienced these horrors? Episodes shifted between Vegeta's very real memories and Trunks' anxieties over the depths of their darkness. He barely trusted his perception of normal events when awake. How did his father get through any of this? He thought he understood, many times over, but he knew nothing - absolutely nothing at all.

He could meditate and spar all day with Gohan and Piccolo and still return home anxious and irritable. He had steadily lost interest being with them, too. His partners knew, but they persisted.

Gohan's patience with Trunks' condition almost seemed supernatural. Maybe it was. He took special interest in his friend primarily because of Vegeta's unique influence _on him_. Had he not learned how to manage his traumatic experiences early, he would have lost his mind and probably massacred everything within sight. His mental triggers were legion, but he leaned into all of them to grow stronger. Piccolo, his toughest teacher, taught him focus. His father Goku taught him not to fear his inborn power.

From Vegeta he learned vulnerability and humility. Time and again, the prince was brought low in demeaning ways, but inch by inch he gained power and discernment. He _seized_ air during battle, holding it between his gloved fingers like a mad scientist. Vegeta was the only man Gohan knew who could be an unapologetic ass for days and teach prize-winning battlefield lessons like a tenured college professor.

He would not let Trunks succumb to the raw darkness and traumas from which Vegeta emerged victorious. He would remind Trunks about the rowdy childhood bravery everyone recalled fondly about Saiyan prince's son.

Having finished homework with her tutor early afternoon, Tasmin wanted to see her father, who had spent most of the day in the bedroom. Her grandfather and brother had left for the nature preserve, with Goku's help getting there. Vegeta gave her explicit instructions to let Trunks rest, saying her father would be refreshed and ready to spend time with the family afterward.

Ella was nowhere close, so Tasmin knocked softly on the master bedroom's door. After hearing nothing, she entered and walked as quietly as possible. Her father had moments when certain noises bothered him more than others. Trunks was seated on the floor, next to his bed. His legs were upright, arms draped across his knees. His bowed head rested on top.

Tasmin walked closer, bending sideways to get his attention.

"Daddy? Are you OK? Dad?"

Bulla was the first to hear her screams.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Please take a moment to leave a comment. Questions are always welcome!**


	27. I Love You More

**Summary: Trunks, Sonali, Vegeta, Bulla, and the twins now must confront their judgments of each other.**

* * *

Vegeta was none too pleased with his grandson or their happy-go-lucky escort to the family's nature preserve. His eyesight was mending, but being unable to see the beautiful landscape he and Bulma cherished was hard on him. He agreed to join Tery because the boy practically begged to spend quality time outside, now that his mother was at work. So like any naughty grandfather would, Vegeta sent Tery's tutor home for the day. Tasmin showed little interest in joining them, which didn't surprise Vegeta. She had been more withdrawn lately, presumably because of her father's condition.

His pregnant daughter and her doting husband didn't work Fridays either. Never worked them, actually. Vegeta liked having the two visit more, but being who he was, questioned their work ethic. Trunks and Sonali labored like dogs after marrying to be independent. Eventually Vegeta's criticism softened because Bulla was his princess, and he valued how much his marriage to Bulma freed him _to be free_. Like him, Bulla and her husband had a right to control their time as they pleased, "without becoming nuisances," he said.

His resentful protest began with crossing his arms and sitting on the ground. "What is this? A tea party? Go away, all of you."

Tery moved next to him. "They're just being nice, elder."

"Don't be fooled," Vegeta warned, tugging at the boy's shirt. "Just because people seem nice doesn't mean their motives will serve you well - especially if they're stupid. Did you not stop to think about the results of supporting this ambush?"

"That's what you're teaching him?" Goku said, laughing. "Come on, man. At least tell the rest. Tery, look, many people are nice solely because they want to be good to others."

Vegeta snapped his fingers, shooting a tiny energy beam toward _his best guess_ of where Goku's feet stood. "Don't question my valuable lessons in front of my grandson, Kakarot! Our children learned what I'm teaching him. Following an idiot's lead recklessly can get you killed!"

"But elder, you call Uncle Goku an idiot," Tery said, appearing confused. "You've been alive a long time, too."

"I say that with affection," Vegeta sternly replied, "and I never have _followed_ Kakarot's lead in the way you're thinking. Adults tease each other differently from children.

"Yes," said Goku, vowing not to be beaten by the verbal punches. "We call your grandfather 'jackass' because he's just so _likable_."

Krillin chuckled. "You didn't sense me at first, did you, Vegeta?"

Vegeta soon felt relieved not seeing the men's grinning faces. Goku's instant teleportation abilities could be _such_ a nuisance.

"Actually, I did _baldy_. Excluding my grandson, it's like the rest of you have lost good sense. _Nothing has changed_ _about me, essentially_. My sight is returning - and even if it didn't, I can handle it. Bulma would be furious after listening to your bumbling. Especially with you, Kakarot."

"Heh," Yamcha chuckled, drumming on his prosthetic leg. "I'm here too, Vegeta. I'm not that weak for you to overlook me, along with my extensive hardware."

Vegeta threw his hands up. "This is not a fucking competition!"

"You like it that they're here," Tery said, grinning broadly. "I knew it! I was right!"

"Would you mind coming with me, kiddo?" Goten asked, attempting to escape before Vegeta lost his shit for real. He did not enjoy poking lions, unlike his father.

"Sure, Goten!" Tery exclaimed, failing to notice Vegeta's scalding coldness.

Dry ice burns, and the prince was done yelling. His fists clenched as he hovered above ground. His irises turned blue, while an amber aura burst from all sides like cracked glass.

"My grandson goes _nowhere_ without my permission," he said, beckoning the others with his palm to battle. "I have had _enough_. You know this Saiyan transformation is child's play. Try me, fellas. Then, let's play _hardball_."

 _"I said this wasn't a good idea,"_ Goten grumbled to Goku mentally. _"He's been under a lot of stress, dad."  
_  
 _"This is just what Vegeta needs,"_ Goku said, touching his temple. " _We'll handle him. Now grab my shoulder so you and Tery can flee._ "

Vegeta appeared in front, pushing them apart. "It's far too quiet over here. Plotting revolution?"

"Now!" Tery said, clutching Goten's neck. "Now!"

Shocked that the boy disobeyed him _like this_ , Vegeta froze, which didn't happen often. "What are you doing?!"

By then Goku had spirited the other two away. He also suffered a stinging jaw punch after returning.

"How stupid of you to reappear in the same spot," Vegeta huffed, preparing to throw another punch. "That's no challenge, Kakarot. I'm highly offended."

Goku rubbed his chin, feeling victorious.

"I bet you are offended!" Krillin yelled from behind a tree. "How do you feel now?"

"How about you die first?!" Vegeta shouted. "Run and get a head start before I maul you for dinner."

Goku shook from laughter. The prince turned his back, trying not join in.

"I hate you - idiot."

"At least we got you out of the house, Vegeta."

"I leave home often."

"Bullshit."

Krillin and Yamcha joined them, opening a capsule containing a food-covered table. Goku handed a wine glass to the prince, who appeared slightly embarrassed and bemused.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "You know what happens when I'm pissed. I'm not the best company."

"Because we're fathers and husbands," Yamcha said, "and to honor Bulma, our friend. You've been through hell. Also, as you can see, I haven't venomously hated you for years."

Vegeta sniffed the wine, listening to wind blow through the trees. "I am still going through hell in some ways, boys."

"We know," Krillin said. "We're not here to pity or pressure you into sharing everything - or anything, really. But, uh -"

"You're just trying to be nice?" Vegeta asked wryly. "Yeah, I figured that out."

Pleased, Goku clapped his hands together eagerly. "Let's eat!"

They dined like kings. Within two hours all four men lay sprawled on the ground, snoring.

Krillin carried the sole communicator watch - a promise to his wife. After rolling over to silence an incoming text, he glanced at Vegeta, who was sleeping peacefully.

He sighed heavily, rereading the bad news. "Damn it. This is so unfair. He finally got to have some fun too - as much fun as he allows himself to have."

Goku yawned, propping his arms behind his head. "So what are you talking to yourself about now? I knew I should have napped somewhere else."

Krillin glanced at Vegeta again. "We need to wake him."

Goku raised on his elbows. "Don't tell me something bad happened again."

* * *

Tasmin had reached her breaking point.

At first the girl had been shocked into silence. First, her grandmother. Then her grandfather, and now her father. What did this mean? Everyone was so happy before. Maybe her family was being punished for something bad, like she suspected all along. Then she remembered Vegeta's speech during the family dinner at Nightingale. He said he wasn't a good man for a time. But he said really horrible people hurt him, and he did so much good for others now - and he would never, ever lie to the family.

But why was her father suffering so much? Her parents said Trunks' attempt to help Vegeta get better would be risky, but did they consider whether things would become this frightening?

Then she heard her father mumble "stop" repeatedly in Saiyan dialect.

Trunks heard his daughter's screaming from inside of a foggy black hole. He had taken too many sedatives to be startled by the commotion. Tasmin's arrival blocked his plans to slumber through another debilitating flashback. Disheveled hair swathed both sides of his face.

"Daddy will…be…be fine, princess," he slurred, clutching his stomach. "I just…just need to rest. Not feeling well."

"No, you won't!" Tasmin hollered, shaking him. "You're trying to leave us, like elder almost did after grandma died!"

His skin felt cold, increasing Tasmin's worry. By then Bulla appeared, gently moving her niece aside. She patted her stomach to calm the energetic fetus kicking her inside.

Panic wasn't an option. Her niece and Trunks looked like blood-drained vampires.

"Aunt Bulla! Daddy is -"

She held Tasmin's hand, lowering herself to the floor. "I see, honey. Look, I need your help to take care of Trunks. Take a deep breath. First, I want you to take a whiff of his drinking glass. See if you can detect the scent of the medicine he took. Tear up the bedroom until you find a bottle or something like it. Work fast. Do it now!"

She took his pulse. _I'm going to take care of you, like you did for daddy. This can't happen anymore._ She felt guilty for praying that her brother wouldn't reveal his visions to her. But clearly he needed someone to speak to, without shame, to relieve his suffering.

Ella shuffled inside, followed by a robotic medical cart. She almost toppled over on the floor rushing to examine him.

"We must keep his airway open," she said grimly. "He appears to have overdosed on a substance. We don't want his entire central nervous system to shut down. I'll do what I can, but he _must_ enter hospital this time to continue treatment."

Tasmin re-entered holding up a leather pouch. "I think he was taking pills from this bag. Some are left. It smells like the glass."

Bulla thanked the gods for Saiyans' acute sense of smell.

"Good girl." Furious, Ella snatched the bag. "Thank you for being so quick. I want to know who gave these to him. They _will not_ be looked upon favorably."

Bulla knew Ella meant _Vegeta_ wouldn't look on this favorably. She hoped Trunks would conveniently forget his drug dealer's identity for now. An elephant tranquilizer would be necessary to stop their father from murdering the person - and his or her associates.

"You did a great job," she told her niece. "I'm so proud of you. What I need you to do now is wait with Uncle Todd for the private ambulance I summoned."

"Yes, ma'am." Tasmin hugged Bulla, grounding herself. She couldn't show fear now. Someone else must speak for her father, and that would be her. Trunks had been terribly wronged, she believed. Those closest to him failed him. She didn't need eloquence or a perfect vocabulary to make her point. In her child's mind, justice is all that matters.

Ella touched Trunks' clammy brow, whispering, "My darling, you can't go yet. It wasn't Vegeta's time to leave us, and it's not yours. We're in this together, remember?"

Trunks' eyes fluttered as she tried to alleviate his stress. "Help…me."

"Always." Ella grasped his left hand, closing her eyes. "I know I'm not your dear mother, but your father put his trust in me. Hold on to the feelings I'm sending to you."

Bulla held her brother's head on her knees, infusing her life force as well. Todd followed the emergency medical technicians into the room, who at first appeared bewildered from a sensation they felt but couldn't see.

"Guys, it's fine," he said, helping his appreciative wife stand. "Let's go!"

* * *

Sonali's senses blurred from light waves and noises until reaching Trunks' room. Again, she faced losing her husband to events beyond her comprehension or control.

This time, however, Trunks couldn't breathe independently. A ventilator pushed air into his lungs steadily.

Vegeta sat on the other side of the bed. He understood how addiction worked and felt, but he couldn't fathom Trunks becoming addicted to any drug. Not yet. His son wasn't trying to kill himself, either. He considered this an act of desperation.

He refused to feel helpless, not like before.

Exhausted, Sonali rubbed her eyes. "He needs these memories erased - these days and nights of distress he won't discuss with me. Whatever they are, whatever you did that's affecting him, it's _killing_ your son. I just don't understand anything anymore."

 _Whatever he did_. Whatever _he_ did. Sonali said she wouldn't blame him, but Vegeta hadn't expected that to last. He prepared for the response long ago, but the outcome still stung.

His head lowered. "Tampering further with his mind could be more dangerous."

"Are you serious?" Sonali's face blackened with anger. "Is _this_ not bad enough?!"

Emotion on the prince's face vanished. He had to stanch his pain. "Yes, I am serious - and while this is bad, there is room for worse."

"I can't do this with you or _anyone else_ right now." Sonali shook her head. " _I can't._ Can you give us time alone, please?"

"Of course. Don't…bother standing up. I memorized this room when Bulma was hospitalized here. Ella says nothing changed."

"No, it hasn't," Sonali said, holding Trunks' arm. "The suite next door has, though. If you plan to stay overnight, the room is fully stocked with food and computerized to assist because of your eyesight. I want the twins to see Trunks but not until he's alert."

"I want to see my granddaughter, since she found him."

"You should take a break before the room gets busy again. Please, do that for me."

"As you wish, daughter."

Sonali leaned wearily into Vegeta's supportive grasp on her shoulder. She placed her hand over his, looking up. Knowing that he wasn't rejected meant the world to him.

Vegeta recognized how his youth conflated "good" and "bad." He was smart, calculating, strong, fearsome, lethal, and rebellious in Trunks' hallucinations. In many ways, he also became Frieza's feral beast. He was sexually assaulted, "broken in," and told he was "special" for accepting the abuse. His influencers gaslighted him into believing he was _everything_ and _nothing_ at all.

He had to confront those earliest memories directly and honestly to help Trunks, receiving the long-overdue help he needed. Bulma's late father, brilliant man that he was, offered an option years ago that the prince rejected outright before marrying Bulma.

"Only you can know how truly bad it was," he told Bulma, after tearfully asking how she could love him. He felt like dying that day expressing his shame.

Sonali felt horrible enough for directing anger toward Vegeta, whom she loved dearly. She knew he felt responsible for Trunks' situation and probably expected her to turn on him. She would reassure him later but not until the children were settled.

After entering the suite, Vegeta lethargically settled into a recliner awaiting a speakerphone's shrill ring. He sent Goku and Krillin back to their families, knowing they would return eventually despite his pride-fueled desire for solitude. Gohan and Piccolo would show up later.

"We need to talk."

Bracing herself, Tights lit a cigarette. "You don't sound great, Vegeta. What happened?"

"Trunks is in hospital. I'm here now. He overdosed on medication he wasn't supposed to have."

"Oh god." Tights bent over on her desk, clutching her phone. She wondered how much more hardship she could take. "That's why I couldn't reach Sonali."

"My son is… struggling," Vegeta muttered. "So am I."

"Of course you are!" Tights exclaimed. He admitted a need for help. Now she could do something. " _Of course you are_. I'm glad you reached out-"

"Look, this is difficult for me, _so just listen,"_ Vegeta replied irritably. "I _do not_ want _anyone's_ shoulder to cry on. I'm ready for the simulator. Trunks will need it too, eventually."

"You _cannot_ force therapy on my nephew yet," Tights protested. "He just entered hospital. Look how long it's taken you to ask for help. I have maintained this tool for years, at Bulma's and father's request, no questions asked."

Vegeta pounded the metal end table, fracturing parts of it. "Your _only_ nephew is drowning inside of himself! You humans have institutionalized sick people for less, imposing this so-called _therapy_ on them. I have lived horrors that would curdle your blood, overcoming them by my own strength! And yet I must accept _another_ humiliation that I couldn't care for myself well enough to protect my family! _Tights,_ _we are talking now because I am out of options_. Now are you going to help me or not?"

He didn't give himself enough credit, Tights thought, recalling his attentive care for her sister. Before that, her decades-long doubt about his role in Bulma's life was no secret. But she respected her father, who staunchly believed in emotional growth. He trusted that people could change the worst about themselves by believing they could.

Dr. Brief also realized Vegeta's violent, stormy history would make person-to-person therapy impossible. Even he didn't want to know the extent of Bulma's knowledge about the man, so he had a device perfected to protect their family's secrets: a virtual therapist.

Tights looked at her watch. "We'll get started after I see Trunks. Now you listen to me, jackass, because I'm speaking for my baby sister now. You're going to be all right."

"OK, you unbearable gorgon - and if your sister were here, she would say _no one_ speaks for her but _her_. So stop preaching and make yourself useful."

They shared a thoughtful silence before ending the call.

Vegeta soon sensed a familiar energy barreling for Trunks' room. He frowned, wondering _how_ and _why_ Bulla let Tasmin leave home. Perhaps he should have expected this.

The din was fast and furious as her grandfather calmly re-entered Trunks' room. "I was all wrong about you," she shrieked at him, "and _all of you_ were wrong to let dad hurt himself - mom, Bulla, Gohan, Ella, Piccolo, Goku, and _especially you_ , _elder_. I really wanted you to be there for us, like you said, but you weren't!"

"Tasmin!" Solani said angrily. "This _is not_ the time. Not at all. _Back off - now_."

"No, mommy! Everyone tried hard to help elder, including me. It hurt me too when grandma died, but he _had a choice_ not to leave us. Then, when he wouldn't help himself, dad and Gohan had to do something dangerous to bring him back to us. Why does everyone act like this is OK? Elder said he did bad things once. Is that why dad is like this now?"

Sonali's heart broke hearing her daughter's wrath and watching Vegeta's resigned response. Two people she loved most had been deeply hurt.

"Tasmin, baby, please stop this. We can talk later -"

"Let her _finish_ ," Vegeta said quietly. "She has a voice. You taught her that. It's fine."

Trunks' eyes slowly opened, focusing on his daughter. _"No,"_ he said telepathically. _"Stop it right now. That's an order."_

Tasmin ran to the bed. "But dad! I'm right!"

Sonali grabbed her shoulders. "Honey, please."

Trunks gestured weakly for his wife to stop, giving Tasmin permission to move closer. _"This talk is ours alone. No yelling out loud anymore. Understand?"_

Tasmin nodded obediently. _"Yes, sir."_

 _"Give me your hand, baby. I'm so sorry I scared you. I am having a hard time recovering, but that was my choice to help your elder. We can't predict when people get sick or how long. He was unwell, just like me. It's hard accepting when bad things happen, but father adores you. Trust my word. Be angry with me - or just be angry - but don't hurt him. He needs your love and understanding. It hurts him terribly to see me like this too."_

Tasmin felt his chest, watching the ventilator's movement. _"Tery and I have feelings too."_

 _"I know, my love,"_ Trunks replied, squeezing her fingers. _"I know, and I would never hurt you intentionally."  
_  
"I...I love you, dad. You too, mom."

"I love you too, girlie," Sonali said, hugging her crying daughter. "Your father should rest now. He used a lot of energy speaking with you, I'm sure."

"Yeah." Tasmin sniffled and looked around the room. "Where did elder go?"

"Well, sweetheart, I guess he needed fresh air. You were very upset. He was too, although he held back from showing it. But he also believed you deserved to be heard. Seems like the _rest of us_ thought you and Tery were handling the rough times as well as expected. I felt like everyone was doing a decent job being there for you. We can do better."

"May I find him now?"

"I don't want you running all over this place, young lady. It's bad enough you escaped from Aunt Bulla. I'm surprised she hasn't chased you over here yet."

"He's still in the suite, mommy."

"How do you know?" Sonali asked, letting her go.

Tasmin tapped on her head, smiling. "He's not hiding his ki."

Vegeta lay in a bedroom facing the wall, with the door locked. Reflections about his life hopped through his mind. He was unready for Tasmin to apologize, which she was coming to do. He didn't believe enough time had passed for her to understand and accept her conflicting feelings. He didn't have as much choice as a child. One could only process emotions so much while being under siege.

"Elder? May I come in?"

"Not right now," Vegeta replied. "I'm not angry with you, either. Just give me some time - and yourself."

"OK," Tasmin said, touching the door. "I love you."

"I love you more."

* * *

 **Thanks to everyone who left thoughts about the last chapter.**

 **Kitty in the Box and nancy103: I think they're finally turning a significant corner together. Children have unique ways of jolting adults out of inertia, forcing them to pay closer attention to their needs.**

 **Thomas-The-TMC: I'm glad you appreciated the wordplay - and told me. :)**


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